


Amor Vincit Omnia

by spoilersweetie



Series: Amor Vincit Omnia [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 96,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilersweetie/pseuds/spoilersweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's lips part as he stares at the woman seated above him; she is draped over her throne, a mass of tight curls, glittering gold, and red silken fabric.<br/>He has never been particularly interested in the opposite sex (or indeed, his own) but to his shock the first words that come to mind are /beautiful, stunning/. Although she rakes piercing green eyes over his form and this is followed quickly by /deadly/. A shiver goes down his spine. Fear, he tells himself – he will forever deny it could be excitement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the RDAUathon on tumblr. Written for Nina (ninakins-mn.tumblr) Prompt: River as a Roman empress and the Doctor as her slave. 
> 
> A/N: This is a multi-chapter fic. This is chapter one posted for the ficathon, I will continue to post the rest on my AO3 once the reveals have been made. :)

 

His hands shackled, the Doctor is marched through marble hallways lined with pillars and statues and paintings, the grandeur of which he has never before seen. He has little time to admire the architecture though as a firm hand shoves him between the shoulder blades and sends him stumbling forwards, a reminder to keep up his pace.

Finally, they burst through a set of double doors – the grandest yet – and enter a huge room upon which time the Doctor’s suspicions are confirmed; he is in a palace. He is all but dragged across the vast throne room as he gapes about him, the soldier’s footsteps echoing on the marble flooring, his own bare feet slapping loudly on the cold surface in his effort to keep up. Reaching the foot of the steps upon which a platform is mounted with a huge ornate throne, the Doctor is shoved to his knees and forced to bow before he has a chance to properly see whom he is bowing to. He winces as his knees hit the hard floor, chains jangling around him.

“Your highness.”

“Is this him?”

Unable to stop himself, the Doctor’s head whips up at the female voice and he gawps open mouthed at the sight of the _woman_ sitting on the throne before a sharp smack to the back of his head forces him to quickly bow it again.

“Yes your majesty.”

There is a pause.

“Look at me.”

Having switched from Latin to English, he assumes she can only be talking to him, and so the Doctor cautiously raises his head. His lips part as he stares at the woman seated above him; she is draped over her throne, a mass of tight curls, glittering gold, and red silken fabric.

The Doctor has never been particularly interested in the opposite sex (or indeed, his own) but to his shock the first words that come to mind are _beautiful, stunning._ Although she rakes piercing green eyes over his form and this is followed quickly by _deadly._ A shiver goes down his spine. Fear, he tells himself – he will forever deny it could be excitement.

“They say you’ve been claiming you are a Doctor.” She says in perfect English.

“I am a Doctor. Ma’am,” he quickly tags onto the end, unsure how he should address her. He didn’t even know who he was kneeling before.

“But not a medical Doctor, if I am to understand?”

“No - well – I was, but I no longer practice medicine – my interests now centre on science.”

“And yet you insist you are still a Doctor.”

He nods once. “It’s the name I choose to go by.”

She raises a perfectly painted eyebrow. “And what’s your real name?”

“The Doctor, ma’am. Is my name.”

Jewellery tinkling lightly, she leans forward on her throne, eyes narrowed. The Doctor swallows. “I should have you flogged for your impertinence. Tell me your name!”

“It - I… no longer remember it,” he lies quietly.

She frowns, glaring at him for a moment before she sits upright in her throne again.

“Leave us,” she addresses the guards who had brought him in, and turns to the two women and three guards surrounding her. “You too.”

They quickly scarper from the hall until the Doctor is alone with this… queen? Empress? He has no idea who he is dealing with. She turns back to face him.

“So… _Doctor_ ,” she says the word like it is a mockery. “Prove to me you are the intellectual you claim to be.” She leans back in her throne, watching him arrogantly as if convinced he is about to prove himself nothing but a liar.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor shifts, chains clanking, his knees beginning to ache on the hard floor. “May I stand?”

“No.” She snaps.

“Uh… what would you like to know?”

She shrugs, a small smirk on her face. “Tell me something I don’t know. _Educate_ me.”

His eyebrows raise. “I fail to see how that would prove to you whether I’m telling the truth or not – if it’s something you don’t know I could just make anything up.” He blurts the words out before remembering who he is dealing with and realising he probably should watch his tongue. He has no idea what she’s capable of after all – and there is something about the glint in her eyes… a wildness – a danger. It makes him feel reckless, which is quite frightening to realise – surely it should have the opposite effect?

The empress’s face flickers with several reactions – shock, anger, and then amusement. She is holding back a smirk again when she finally replies with unmistakable arrogance; “There’s nothing I don’t know – you’d only _assume_ I don’t know it. If, of course, you _are_ the great philosopher you say you are,” she mocks.

“Scientist,” he corrects.

She frowns, and then lets out a cross sort of huff, shaking her head as she looks down at him. “Not many men have spoken to me the way you have and lived to tell the tale,” she snaps suddenly. “Tell me what I want to hear, slave, before I change my mind and have you killed for insolence.”

He doesn’t doubt she would, either. The Doctor had always thought himself good at reading people and if the darkness swirling in her eyes is anything to go by, she’s certainly capable of it.

He clears his throat, and thinks for a moment. “Matter is made up of particles. Billions and billions of tiny particles – everything is. Even the air we breathe – those just move in a different way and are not as densely packed as particles in say – a solid object. A human body, even. There’s particles in living organisms too – everything.”

The woman on the throne narrows her eyes at him, and is silent for a long moment. She won’t know it – it’s one of his own discoveries – _mad theories_ everyone else calls them. He might have done better to tell her something any intellect would have learnt – something simple that would still prove him to be educated – but something in the challenge in her eyes had made him want to… what? Impress her? No – prove her wrong? A bit of both, maybe. It’s possible he has just signed his death warrant.

 “The particles are moving?” She finally says when she speaks, and the question utterly stuns him.

“Uh –” He nods quickly. “Yes – fast, incredibly fast, and constantly. They sort of… possess an energy. It’s – it’s difficult to explain briefly.”

She tilts her head, watching him carefully, and again, he is struck by how very beautiful she is – and considers how unusual it is that he even notices such a thing.

She claps her hands loudly three times and he jumps, blinking and looking away from her as the convoy of people she had sent away hurry back into the room.

“Take him to my chambers,” she orders brusquely, and the guards bow their heads. “Lock him in there.”

“Yes your highness.”

“Oh and…” She looks him up and down and wrinkles her nose. “Perhaps a trip to the baths first. And find him some clean clothes.”

“Yes highness.”

His mouth is still hanging open as he is hauled to his feet and marched from the room.

\--            

The bath had been heavenly – even if he had been commanded to clean himself as quickly as possible and been afforded no privacy whilst doing so. It was the first chance he’d had to be able to wash in a way that didn’t involve a grubby sponge and bucket of water since he’d arrived at the palace a month ago – and on the dreadful voyage over here he hadn’t been able to wash at all.

The Doctor is now making the most of the lavish chambers he’s been locked inside. Yes, he’s still a prisoner and a slave (he’s tried all the windows and doors) but the comfortable grand chamber he currently has to himself is certainly preferable to the tightly packed quarters he’d been sharing with the other slaves – most of which hated his guts and didn’t miss an opportunity to mock him (or, even on a couple of worse instances, beat him up) over the equations and charts and scribblings he spent every night making on any scrap piece of paper he could find in his tiny hammock. His studies have kept him sane – pouring so much of his thoughts and mental energy into his research keep him from focusing on the disparity of his new situation.

He is hunched over a book he’d pulled down from a shelf, thumbing delightedly through its pages when the door to the chambers opens and in strolls the woman he’d been presented to earlier. Scrambling to his feet, he fumbles to replace the book on the shelf as she closes the door behind her and turns the lock, narrowed eyes fixed on him.

“I’m sorry, please – forgive me – I was just – well I was just – I couldn’t help but look around and I noticed – I’m so sorry…”

She stalks across the marble floor towards him and he resists the urge to scramble backwards, bowing his head demurely as she comes to a stop in front of him. She raises her hand and he flinches – but then stares up at her in surprise when she simply reaches past him to retrieve the book he’d replaced on the shelf.

“Hm,” she comments, reading the spine, and then fans through the pages. “I like this one too.” She reaches up and pops it back then faces him with her arms folded. “But in future you _ask_ before touching my things, understand, slave?”

Eyes wide, he nods hurriedly. “Yes ma’am. Of course. Sorry.”

She strolls over to throw herself down onto a comfortable looking chaise-long, shrugging the wrap from her shoulders and curling her legs up underneath her as she reclines back in it. “Wine,” she snaps her fingers, and nods her head towards a corner of the room where a bottle and glasses sit atop a tray resting on a little table.

Tripping over his feet, the Doctor hurries to obey, un-corking the bottle and pouring her a glass hastily with shaking hands, concentrating not to spill it as he makes his way back over to her and hands it to her. She takes it and sips, watching him carefully as he hovers before her, shifting on his feet and resisting the urge to squirm under the scrutinising gaze.          

“Tell me about the particles.”

The request stuns him in more ways than one, and he stares at her, mouth open for a second before he can manage to form a reply. “You believe me?”

She glances away, frowning. “I’d… a similar theory myself,” she admits quietly. “Although – I hadn’t thought even the _air_ … it makes sense. That explains how gasses work – and liquid too.” She tilts her head at him. “How do you know that?”

He shakes his head, completely baffled. “You don’t think I’m mad?”

She snorts. “Completely. You’d have to be to come up with something like that. Sometimes the maddest of men are also the greatest, you know.” She grins then, baring her teeth, and her eyes glint in a way that frightens him a bit. “I don’t pretend to have much claim to sanity myself.”

Still, he frowns at her. “Why do you want to listen to a slave?”

She huffs, throwing her free hand up. “Because you’re a slave by happenstance, not birth.” A small smirk comes to her lips. “I know a clever man when I see one. And I’d be a fool not to make use of _you_ , wouldn’tI sweetie?”

The term of endearment makes him blink. She is mocking him, clearly – but he thinks there is a softness in her eyes – it’s faint, but it makes him cocky.

“You like me,” he states smugly, and slow smile coming to his face, and just like that, the softness in her eyes is gone, replaced by that cold glare.

“I like no-one. I like when I can make use of someone to get what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

She leans forward, those green eyes cold and gleaming – he resists the urge to shrink back. “Power.”

He raises an eyebrow, and gestures around. “You have power.”

Leaning back in her seat again and taking another sip of wine, she shrugs. “Some. Not as much as I’d like. Yet.”

The Doctor feels a shiver go down his spine.

“Now – tell me.” She demands.

He does – he tells her all about what he’s been researching and finds himself – to his own surprise - telling her almost everything – all that he’s discovered about the earth and it’s matter and how it’s made up and works – he tells her not just because he is her slave and she has demanded it - but also because she listens – really listens – she doesn’t look at him like he’s mad and he doesn’t have to explain anything more than once. She listens and she follows every word, asking questions, arguing theories with him, discussing ideas… she is the first person the Doctor has ever spoken to who is not only willing to listen but also understands and seems to be just as passionate about all of it as he is. 

“That _is_ interesting,” River finally comments, leaning back in her seat again when the Doctor finishes explaining his latest theory on how the earth moves round the sun from his place sitting on her marble floor with various pieces of fruit laid out in front of him he’d been using to explain.

Running a hand through his hair, he nods enthusiastically.

Stretches her arms above her head languidly, she rises, picking up her wrap and throwing it back round her shoulders. “And now I must to meet with my chancellor.” She pauses to look down at the Doctor, who quickly gathers up the fruit  and bits and bobs that he’s scattered all over the floor.

“I think I should like you to continue your work – when I don’t need use of you.” She points towards a cabinet in the far corner of the room. “You’ll find parchment and writing quills and ink over there. Anything else you may need I’ll have brought over. Until I can trust you well enough to fetch things for yourself without attempting to escape. Which – by the way – is pointless.”

His eyes widening at her offer, the Doctor bows before her. “Thank you – ma’am – thank you so much –“

“I’m not doing it to be kind,” she rolls her eyes, “I told you – I know when to make use of people. Your theories and research just happens to be something I am personally greatly interested in, so we can discuss your continuing study further. I don’t like to see a brilliant mind like yours go to waste – I’m sure I can find use of it in other matters too – how much do you know about warfare tactics?”

Frowning, he drops his eyes. “Very little I’m afraid ma’am.”

“Perhaps you should start learning then. You’ll find plenty of books in that case over there.” She waves a hand as she turns to leave the chambers.

“Wait, er – I’m sorry, but I uh, I was just wondering what – er – what do I call you?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You will call me nothing, slave, you do not address me – you answer when I speak to you.”

He ducks his head. “Right. Sorry. But er… I was just – I just wondered, is all… whose slave I am?”

This seems to please her as he’d hoped it would, and she smiles, just slightly. “I am River Song, empress of the third province of Rome.”

He smiles back. “You have a brilliant name.” An unusual name, he thinks – for an unusual woman.

“Hmm,” she agrees, “It’s such a pity the only one you’ve got to go by is ‘Doctor’,” she comments dryly.

He shrugs. “It does me alright.”

“That may be,” she says loftily, strolling towards the door, “But you’ll have no use of it here I’m afraid. Slave.”

She throws him a cruel wink as she slips out of her chambers, and he hears the lock click firmly as the door shuts behind her. 

\--

T.B.C


	2. Chapter 2

River Song proves to be a demanding mistress but he certainly cannot say a cruel one, and at least is thankful for the fact that as her personal slave, he no longer needs to fear physical punishment should he not perform a task quickly or satisfactorily enough. In the fortnight he has been serving her, she has threatened to have him lashed only one, and although her eyes had flashed as she’d spat it at him, something told him she didn’t really mean it.

She is out of her chambers for most of the day, and he is therefore left in peace to continue his work – and for that he is sincerely grateful. When she returns in the evening she likes to hear what he’s been working on that day, and the Doctor finds he is only too happy to explain his work to her – it’s new, having somebody to share his interests and passions with, and he finds he enjoys doing so immensely. River Song is an incredibly intelligent woman – it surprised him constantly in the first week how easily she kept up with his explanations – and surprised him further when she had observations and thoughts of her own to add – even occasionally pointing out things he himself had not realised.  The Doctor has lived his entire life with a sort of constant awareness that his brain seems to work faster and – dare he think it without being arrogant – just better than everyone else’s. That was until he’d met River Song. The empress is cold, demanding and spoilt – but beneath it all lays an extremely intelligent woman. She fascinates him.

Glancing up from his place on the floor amidst a sea of scattered papers at the sound of a key in the lock, the Doctor scrambles to his feet, finding he is actually happy she has returned tonight and that he cannot wait to share his discoveries today with her.

“Mistress,” he bows demurely to her as she swans past him in a wave of floating fabrics and strong scented perfume. He is bouncing on the balls of his feet as she kicks off her sandals and throws herself down onto her chaise long.

She glances over at him and rolls her eyes at the mess he’s made of her floor. “Well haven’t you been a busy boy.”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yes ma’am – I’ve made some fantastic progress on the new theory I came up with yesterday –“

“I’m tired.” She interrupts with a sigh. “Draw me a bath.”                                                  

His face falling, he hesitates before bowing his head. “Y – yes mistress.”

She rolls her eyes again. “You can tell me all about it while I’m soaking.”

Brightening again instantly, he hurries to get to his task immediately, rushing over to ring the bell on the wall.

“What are you doing?”

He pauses at her sharp tone.

“Uh – calling for a boy to fetch the water?”

She waves a hand. “You get it. I’m sure you can manage.” His eyes widen and he gapes a moment before he quickly gives himself a little shake and bows, turning to hurry from her chambers for the first time since he’d been locked in here two weeks ago to obey her command.

It is a long way to fetch the water and the pales are terribly heavy but the Doctor is so pleased to have been allowed out he would have happily filled three tubs for her. Still, physical strength had never been his strong suit and he is sweating and out of breath from the exertion by the time he tips the last steaming pale into the bathtub in her chambers, and wipes a shaky hand over his forehead as he tells her it’s ready.

River stands and strolls over to the tub, un-hooking the shoulders of her gown and the Doctor quickly bows his head and spins to hurry from the room.

“What are you doing?” Comes her sharp voice, halting him in his tracks. “I thought I told you you’ll tell me about your work while I bathe.”

Turning back, he falters, mouth opening and closing again as River unhooks the clip on the other shoulder. “I – y – yes, I was just – I was – I thought I’d – while you got…” He trails off, words utterly leaving him when, with deep green eyes fixed on his, an eyebrow quirked and a small smirk on her lips, River drops her gown to the floor. She is bare beneath it, and he feels the air leave his lungs as she steps neatly out of the puddle of silk on the floor and moves the remaining steps to the tub.

She climbs daintily in, one step at a time, sinking into the steaming water like… like some sort of beautiful aqua goddess submerging back into the depths from whence she came. It is a ridiculous thought, but it’s the only one in his head as he gapes at her. Leaning back in the tub, she sighs, her eyes breaking from his to flutter closed in pleasure.

The Doctor gasps in air and nearly chokes on it, face flooding red as he realises how entrancedly he had just openly stared at her – his mistress  (then – she doesn’t exactly seem to mind…) - and he immediately snaps his eyes to the floor.

Her low laugh makes him dare to meet her eyes again to find her watching him with amusement on her face. He flushes further. “I – er – er – y – I’ll –“

She laughs a bit louder, tilting her head back, and then nods her chin towards the mass of papers over on the floor. He scrambles over to them; head ducked and face burning as he seats himself on the marble floor, shuffling nervously with the papers spread out around him as he fumbles to begin. He risks a glance up and is relieved to find that at least from down here all he can see over the top of the tub is River’s head and shoulders.

He stammers and fumbles his way through things to start with until he gets into what he is explaining and manages to relax a little, and focus on his work more than the beautiful naked woman just across the floor from him. Water sloshes as River shifts in her tub while he talks, and she demands at one point he fetch her a drink, which he thankfully manages to pour and hand to her without letting his eyes wander, although his face flushes deep red again as he scrambles back to his papers.

River stops him before he finishes tonight with a wave of her hand, leaning her head back against the rim of the tub and letting out a heavy sigh as her eyes slip closed, her brow furrowed a little. The Doctor swallows, watching her carefully as he quietly packs his things away.

When he’s finished, he clears his throat. “Um…” Her green eyes snap open at his voice. She’d warned him never to address her first, after all, and he never has so far but… “Are you quite alright, mistress?” He asks, voice timid and gentle.

She blinks at him, and seems so surprised at the question that she is at a loss for how to respond to it for a moment, and he braces himself for rebuke before her face softens, and she nods, letting her eyes close again. “Just a headache, slave. It’s plagued me half the day. I just need to sleep.”

He clears his throat again. “Er… I think perhaps you should get out of the tub before you do so. Mistress,” he quickly adds.

Her eyes open again and she scowls at him before sighing, and nodding, pulling herself to sit upright. “You’re right.”

“You know,” he says, looking down at his piles of papers as he shuffles with them to avoid staring at her (not that she seems to be doing anything to suggest she’d mind…) “I can actually give a wonderful head massage that can help with migraines.”

Water sloshes, and she tilts her head at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” he nods quickly. “I – I read about it some time ago and sort of taught myself – I get them often too… it helps sometimes.”

“Well then,” she says, “I’m certainly willing to try anything that might help.” She beckons him. “Come.”

Whipping his head up, his eyes bulge. “N – now? I – meant – after –"

Ignoring him, she continues. “Actually I need my hair washed – you can do that first.”

“But – y-you’re –”

“ _Now_ ,” she snaps, “I gave you an order slave, you know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Blushing red, the Doctor scrambles to his feet and hurries over to the tub with his heart pounding in his ears. He hesitates – _not_ looking at her naked body, _not_ looking at her…

Thankfully, she shifts forward, drawing her knees up and tucking her arms round them and successfully covering her, her – _bits_ from his sight. He lets out a breath, not knowing whether he is relieved or disappointed.

“Fetch the jug – and the soap,” she says irritably, nodding her head to where they rest over in the corner of the room. “Must I tell you _everything_?”

“Right – sorry,” he hurries to obey, and quickly kneels down behind the tub. He shakily dips the jug into her bathwater, trying to keep his eyes off the expanse of golden naked skin in front of him, and goes to pour it over her hair when he realises it is still piled on top of her head. Fumbling, he puts down the jug, and reaches out to start pulling the pins from her curls as gently as possible, his fingers fumbling and hands trembling, and her hair feels as beautifully soft and magical as he’d always imagined it would. Not that that had been something he’d imagined, just that – well – yes. He had. Her hair was as beautiful as the rest of her and he’d be a liar to say he hadn’t noticed.

When it is free from all its pins and tumbles down round her shoulders in a cascade of curls, he cannot resist combing his fingers through it gently, revelling in the feel of the silken curls beneath his skin. When River shifts in her tub with a small sound he assumes is impatience, he blushes and quickly picks up the jug again. Sweeping her mass of curls back, the Doctor gently pours water over her hair until it is sufficiently soaked, and he sets down the jug and reaches for the soap.

Trying to focus on the task at hand (rather than the naked woman in front of him), the Doctor lathers soap into her hair, combing his fingers through her curls and gently rubbing it into her scalp. He circles his fingers rhythmically over her head, rubbing the soap in as he simultaneously gives her the head massage he’d promised. River’s shoulders sag and she lets out a sigh.

“This okay?” He checks, voice quiet and possibly a bit huskier than he’d intended for it to sound.

“Mmm,” she sighs contentedly. “Wonderful.” She shifts, tilting her head back and relaxing back against the side of the tub again as he works his fingers into her hair – unfortunately the new position also gives him a perfect view of her naked body beneath the water and he gulps, eyes widening, and shuffles quickly backwards.

Trying to focus on his task, he methodically rubs his fingers over her head, applying pressure to the points he’s learnt, thumbs massaging at the back of her neck. He watches in mesmerisation as his mistress becomes putty beneath his hands, her eyes closed, lips parting and moans and sighs leaving her lips that increase in length and volume as he works. She lets out a particularly low pleasure filled moan and the Doctor feels his insides react alarmingly to the noise, heart leaping, stomach tightening, and to his horror, a stirring in his – er – unmentionable regions…

Clearing his throat, he shifts on his knees behind her. “Er – is that better, ma’am?”

She sighs. “It is. Much.” Shifting to sit up, she stretches, rolling her neck experimentally. “So much better,” she says, her voice practically a purr that does embarrassing things to him. Gods – he needs to get rid of these thoughts – he is her slave and she’ll probably have him flogged if she finds out he’s got an erection from putting his hands on her. He’s only supposed to be making her head feel better but it’s really not his _fault_ when she’s sitting there completely naked right in front of him and making all those sounds he’d never even dreamt could come from a woman’s lips and –

“Rinse it, then,” she snaps, jolting him out of his thoughts, and he fumbles for the jug with a red face and pounding heart.

“Apologies, mistress.”          

He rinses her hair clean of soap as quickly as possible, and then hurries for a towel, which he passes to her, eyes averted as she rises from the tub. Wrapping it round herself, River steps out, and the Doctor whirls on his feet quickly, hurrying for the water pails, his back to her and cheeks still burning as she rubs another towel over her hair.

“What are you doing?” She demands sharply.

“E – emptying the tub ma’am,” he stammers as he stoops over it.

“Look at me when you’re speaking to me.”

Still turned away, he looks up at her over his shoulder with wide eyes.

She scowls. “Stand up and face me properly when you address me.”

Panicked, the Doctor realises there is no way out of this situation, and slowly rises, turning to face her and mumbling, “I was just emptying your bathwater, ma’am.”

River looks at him a moment, and then – to his mortification – lets her eyes drop pointedly downwards. She stares for the most painful few seconds of his life, and he squeezes his eyes shut, , bracing himself for her raging temper –

“Well, get to it then,” she says, and he snaps his eyes open to gape at her in surprise.

His mouth opens. “I –”

“And fetch me my meal while you’re out there – I’m sure you can find your way to the kitchen,” she says as she turns away, continuing to dry her hair.

Astonished at the lack of punishment he’d been convinced he would receive for – for _reacting_ so inappropriately around her, the Doctor can only stammer out a ‘yes ma’am’ and stumble to obey her as she disappears round the corner into the adjoining bedchamber. 


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks pass, and River never mentions his, er – reaction to her that time she’d been in the bath and he’d washed her hair, but ever since then, she seems to have no qualms in undressing, bathing, and changing around him – even making him sometimes do it for her, standing perfectly still with a serene smile on her face as he slips silk and cloth from her body with trembling hands, and winds the straps of her sandals round smooth, shapely legs. It is almost like she is deliberately torturing him.

The Doctor had always assumed himself pretty much not interested in sex – but River Song has awakened a fire, a longing in him that he never knew he was capable of. It unnerves him.

He continues his work while River is out during the days, and she is always keen to hear about it when she returns. He finds that sharing it with River is alarmingly almost becoming the best part. Now that she allows him out around the palace he feels much less like a prisoner too, content to wander the grand halls and fetch his own meals from the kitchens. The cooks there are nice – he even befriends a young slave girl working in the kitchens who always saves him a piece of the delicious desserts they cook for the royalty every day. In return, he sneaks books down with him when he can and shows her the letters and their sounds. She is eager to learn and grateful to him to be teaching her – neither mention how pointless it seems to be for a slave to learn to read.

It occurs to the Doctor one day as he strolls back from the kitchens with a book tucked in his vest, humming softly under his breath as he turns his mind to his work waiting for him in River’s chambers that he is actually - it seems absurd to be so when he is enslaved and forced to remain here and do River’s will – but… happy. He is starting to feel happy with this life he’s found himself in now.

A couple of days later, the empress storms into her chambers while he is sprawled amidst a scattering of papers around mid-afternoon. He scrambles hurriedly to his feet. “Your highness – I didn’t expect you back already – um – do you need me to –“

She stalks over to the books cabinet in the corner of the room and yanks out a thick leather-bound book which she slams down on the table nearby, making the Doctor jump and stunning him into silence.

“Why haven’t you been studying these books on warfare?” She demands angrily, and the Doctor’s eyes widen.

“I – I’m sorry,” he stammers out, “I – I’ve just been so busy with – I thought you didn’t mind if I –“

“I told you I need you to learn these things!” Hauling another book out of the case, she flings it across the room at him, the Doctor only just managing to doge in time as the heavy book flies at him. “My advisors are imbeciles!” She rages, slamming a fist down on the table. “I should never have listened to them! And now I’ve lost five hundred good men – they _swore_ to me the other regiment would reach them in time- why didn’t I go over the figures myself?” She fumes, yanking a rolled up parchment out he recognises to be one of the maps of her lands she often spends hours of an evening pouring over. “Why didn’t _you_ do as I asked and learnt this damn stuff so I could have gotten you to do it!” In her temper she accidently rips a small tear in the map as she struggles to roll it open. “ _Damn it!”_

“Mistress –” The Doctor is across the room in three strides, gently but firmly prying her fingers from the parchment. “Here, let me do it,” he murmurs as soothingly as he can manage as he takes it from her and carefully unrolls it, pinning each corner so it lies flat, and then hurries to fetch a chair which he places by the desk, motioning to it. Shoulders slumping, River drops down into it, elbows on the table and head in her hands.

The Doctor grabs a piece of clean parchment and a pen and kneels by the table. “Why don’t you go over what’s happened with me and we’ll sort it out,” he suggests gently.

“You don’t know a damn thing about this stuff!” She spits out crossly.

He lays a hand over her own. “I’ll work it out – you _do_ know these things, we can work it out together.”

She lifts her head to look at him carefully, green eyes still swimming with rage and stress, that after a moment, amazingly cools, and with a heavy sigh, she nods.

“Fine. Fetch me paper and a quill too.”

He passes her his own and goes to fetch himself more before he settles back beside her.

“Now tell me what happened.”

\--

River explains fast, and the Doctor struggles to write it all down but not to keep up – it’s all basic logic really, and figures, which he’d always had a head for. He finds himself able to discuss the problems with her easily, and when he points something out to her halfway through their planning that she’d missed, she pauses and turns to look at him, tilting her head.

“Guess you didn’t need to study those books after all, hm?” She says with a small smile on her lips, and the Doctor ducks his head, flushing, and irrationally pleased about her compliment.

It takes them a several hours, but they figure it all out, the Doctor fetching River a plate of meats, fruits and cheeses halfway through and reminding her to eat – which she does, surprisingly placing the plate between them and allowing him to share it with her. When they are done, she rolls up the map and stands and stretches, turning towards him with a smile as he gets to his own feet.

“Knew I’d kept you for a reason,” she says, and he grins, scratching at the back of his head.

He shrugs. “I’m here for all your needs,” he quips, and River’s mouth twitches, an eyebrow rising.

“Are you now?”

He nods. “Of course.”

“Hmm,” she comments, and drags her eyes lazily down over him, in a way that makes him squirm beneath her gaze and want to back away.

“Err,” he fumbles, wanting to say something. “Would you like to go to bed now, mistress?”

Her eyes snap back to his and she smiles wider. “Yes. I think so.”

He nods, stepping back. “Very good, I’ll… I’ll clear this away.”

“No, leave it,” she says, turning to make her way through to her bedchamber.

He pauses, bemused. “Ma’am?”

“Come,” she demands without turning. “Help me undress.”

Letting his shoulders slump, the Doctor lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in dread. Of course – it wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ undressing a beautiful woman – a beautiful woman who he found altogether incredible, intelligent and fascinating – the problem was quite the opposite.

She is standing by her bed when he enters, and holds out her arms for him to unhook and delicately remove the many pieces of expensive golden jewellery she wears round her wrists. He walks round behind her next, unclipping her necklace – ten rubies set deep in more gold – and lifts it from her, placing it all carefully on her vanity. She sits on her bed and he kneels before her to unlace her sandals, hesitating when she does not lift the hem of her silken skirts for him to do so, and when he glances up finds her watching him with that eyebrow quirked again – like she is mocking him – and he hurriedly looks away, lifting the dress himself, placing it carefully in her lap before moving fingers which have started to tremble already to the laces of her shoes.

River stands, and he’d hoped she might spare him this part but of course she does not, remaining still and watching him expectantly until he swallows and moves forward, unpinning her gown at first one shoulder, then the other. It is tied at the waist which he’d neglected to undo first, and he has to fumble beneath the silken folds of the dress that has dropped to pool around it to undo it there. All the while River smirks at him and he tries so, so hard not to look at her bare breasts that are all but staring him straight in the face. Finally getting it undone with a small noise of triumph, the Doctor pulls his hands away as it drops into a puddle of blue silk at her feet. He holds out a hand which she takes as she steps neatly out of it, and he pointedly looks at his shoes. He tries to move back but she keeps hold of his hand until he lifts his widened eyes to hers.

“Unpin my hair.”

He nods, mouth dry. “Yes mistress,” he croaks out, and shuffles quickly round behind her, shaking hands diving into her soft curls to fumble for the pins holding it on top of her head. He glances up and falters; realising that where she is standing is right in front of the mirror over her vanity, and standing behind her he now has a full view of her body right down to the middle of her thighs. His hands go still in her hair, his breath catching in his throat as he is struck once again by how beautiful she is. He stares at her before him, the two of them standing together, her so small and curved and perfect in comparison to his willowy limbs, her hips flaring out, waist dipping in impossibly tiny and the gentle rise and fall of her perfectly rounded breasts as she breathes… her prominent collarbones stand out above, the long elegant column of her neck situated perfectly on top and her face.

He jumps, gasping as her sharp green eyes hold his purposefully in the mirror, and quickly blinks, looking down into her hair, and beginning to fumble again with its many pins.

“S – so sorry ma’am,” he stammers out.

“Whatever for?” She purrs and he swallows, flushing.

“I was miles away.”

She lets it go, and he finishes unpinning her hair in silence, combing his fingers through the loose curls once they are down until she turns, and he drops his arms, stepping back. His eyes sweep down over her form involuntarily just once, quickly, before he regains control of them and snaps them back to her face, blushing further.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, “I’ll go, I –”

“Wait,” she halts him before he can scarper from her room.

“…Yes? Ma’am…?”

She quirks an eyebrow, then speaks slowly, voice low and precise. “Do you want to touch me, slave?”

His eyes bulge and the air leaves his lungs in a gasp. _Oh gods yes…_ “No!” He gasps out in a panic. “Of course not! I – no, I – I respect you completely, mistress, I, I don’t –“

“Your body says otherwise,” she says coolly, eyeing his crotch pointedly, and he squeaks and covers himself with two hands.

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, not knowing what else to say as he backs away. “I – I didn’t mean to – to look – to stare at you like that, mistress – I just – I mean I didn’t think – of course I don’t, I don’t, no…” Walking backwards, he trips over, and just catches himself, letting out a nervous laugh. “So sorry, I’ll – I’ll leave you to sleep, goodnight mistress!” He stammers out before spinning and all but bolting from the room.

\--

In the morning, River rises and dresses (thankfully) without asking for his help, breezing through from her bedroom in a wave of perfume, silk and jewellery, and seating herself at her table where the Doctor hurries to place her breakfast down.

“Did you sleep well, mistress?” He asks politely as he pours her some orange juice and she bites into a slice of melon.

“No,” she answers curtly, “I did not.”

She does not speak to him again at all as she eats that morning, and the Doctor keeps a low profile, certain he had offended her terribly by staring at her so boldly the night before. He is slightly confused by her temper – she asks him to undress her, never displays any kind of modesty about her body but then expects him not to look? Or was she perhaps upset because he, once again, became aroused in her presence?

Of course she was – what must she think of him? He should be able to control these sorts of things and he knows this – he just needs to try harder around her.

When she rises from the table and throws a shoal round her shoulders, the Doctor hurries to clear away her things. “I’ll be back late,” she says shortly. “We’ve a dinner party tonight so you’ll have to find your own food.”

He bows his head. “Of course. Um – is there anything you’d like me to work on, in particular today, mistress?” He asks, and River pauses on her way out to turn and glance over him once.

“No. Do as you like. It’s what you always do anyway.”

And with those sharp, unexpected words, she breezes from her chambers. 


	4. Chapter 4

It is a long day – without River. He tries to deny at first that he could possibly be missing his quick-tempered mistress, but River usually pops in and out at least a couple of times during the course of the day, either to change or fix her hair or sometimes just to relax if she has an hour spare, but she does not show up even once, and every single hour positively crawls by as the Doctor sits amongst a sea of papers and books and tries to concentrate on the words in front of him and not the unpredictable empress.

It doesn’t help that doesn’t find the text he is studying in the least bit interesting; despite River telling him he could ‘do as he liked’, the Doctor is buried in a pile of her books on warfare, hoping perhaps that by studying the subject matter he might redeem himself a little for having obviously upset her so the night before. He’d thought perhaps that he could even try and come up with some new ideas for the plans he’d worked on with her last night – backup plans perhaps, if things didn’t go the way they’d predicted (that would surely impress her) and he has pages of scrawls and diagrams already but nothing solid enough to present to her yet. He is too distracted. River Song confuses the hell out of him, and he doesn’t know whether it’s just him – her _slave_ – she likes to toy with in such a way or if she is simply the single most complicated woman ever to exist. He has a suspicion it may be a mixture of the two.

Deciding he may at least be able to think a little better on a full stomach, the Doctor takes a break from his work to wander to the kitchens to fetch himself some dinner. He finds it in a bustle of activity, the cooks and slaves all looking stressed as they scurry about preparing for the dinner party River had informed him of, and so he helps himself to a plate of food, eating quickly at the corner of a table before deciding to get out of their way, and heading back to the empress’s chambers.

Hurrying along a large marble hallway with his head down (he is a slave in this palace, after all), the Doctor is unable to stop himself from looking up sharply at the sound of a familiar voice accompanying several sets of footsteps, only to see the empress herself heading down the corridor towards him at a purposeful pace with a small entourage of men, mostly bearing quills and parchment, in tow. She is talking fast, listing out orders as the man to her left scribbles away, occasionally tripping as he struggles to write and keep up with her pace at the same time. River suddenly notices the Doctor, her eyes finding his, and his own widen before he quickly averts them, looking down at the floor intently as he hurries on, dropping to the side to let them pass.

“What’s this slave doing wandering around up here?” One of the men by her side demands as they approach. The Doctor startles, wide eyes flickering up to him before he glances over to River who is no longer looking his way.

“I – I was just –“

“Get out of the way!” Despite his having stepped back already to let them pass, as they level with him, the man shoves the Doctor hard, sending him stumbling backwards. He staggers, trips and lands on his backside, shoulders and head colliding painfully with a pillar behind him, and winded, he gasps in air as he looks blearily up at them in wide-eyed alarm as they march past. River does not glance down.

The same man hangs back, striding up to him and snarling down at him sprawled on the floor. “Imbecile,” he spits on him, then swings a leg back as if to kick him in the side, and the Doctor recoils, covering his head as he prepares for the blow –

“Cassius!” Comes River’s sharp voice. “Leave the slave, we don’t have time to waste.”

When the Doctor dares to open his eyes the man is snarling down at him, and glances up at his empress, hesitating.

“ _Now_ , I said,” she snaps without turning, striding away down the corridor, and spitting on him one last time, Cassius leaves the Doctor, and hurries to follow.

Clambering slowly up, the Doctor gapes after the party as they retreat. He doesn’t know what to think about what just happened, but something is telling him a lack of time is not the only reason River had stopped her man from beating him… or at least he would certainly like to think so. Cold and short-tempered as she is, he doesn’t think River Song is a cruel woman, and he continues on back to her chambers feeling a lot better than he had when she’d left him with cold words that morning.

He manages to come up with a couple of pieces of parchment full of notes and diagrams to give her towards her war plans before his concentration wavers and his patience with the subject wears off, and with a good several hours left before he would expect her back, he switches over to his own work.

\--

It is much later than he’d expected when River finally returns, but he’d hardly noticed, having become entirely engrossed in his studies.

At the sounds of the door to her chambers bursting open, the Doctor scrambles up from amidst a pile of papers and hurries to his post in the corner of her room where he usually waits for her to help her ready for bed at night. It is late but he hopes she might let him chatter at her as she readies for bed – he’s made an exciting new discovery today and he cannot wait to share it with her…

The smile falls from his face at the sound of another deep voice along with River’s low laugh, and the next moment she stumbles into her bedchamber, walking backwards with a tall, muscular man’s arms round her as she kisses him enthusiastically.

Eyes widening, the Doctor stares at them in shock as River lets herself topple backwards onto her bed and yanks the man down with her where he continues kissing her, his mouth moving down over her neck as River throws her head back and sighs with delight.

Frozen to the spot, the Doctor has a moment of panic as he realises she probably isn’t aware he is there - she has, er… _entertained_ in her chambers before but she’s always sent him out first – but then – where else did she expect him to be tonight, it’s not like he knew she was bringing company back with her – or, or had she told him and he’d forgotten… !?

As he stares at them in frozen panic, River looks up suddenly and darkened green eyes meet with his. They show no shock of his presence, and he gapes wide eyed as she runs a hand up the man’s strong back and parts her legs beneath him to cradle his hips…

“Uh –“ Averting his eyes with his face burning, he steps back, turning to leave and nearly tripping in his fluster. “I’ll just – I’ll – I’ll be outside, highness,” he stammers out as he hurries to leave her chambers.

“Stay right there,” comes River’s sharp voice. “I didn’t give you permission to leave, slave.” He stares at her, eyes wide in alarm as she glares back at him over the head of the man who is now kissing his way down her chest, unpinning her toga at the shoulders. The dress drops and River’s breasts are exposed, and groaning appreciatively, the man opens his mouth over her nipple making River break eye contact to throw her head back with a low moan.

“Over there,” she points and, closing his mouth, the Doctor ducks his head and scurries to the corner of her bedchamber.

River turns her attention back to the man now laying her back on her bed and pushing up her dress as he kisses his way down her stomach. Heart hammering, face burning and, gods help him, cock illicitly hardening in his trousers, the Doctor looks away, folding his hands in front of him and attempting to focus on a dot on the opposite wall.

And there he is forced to remain, furiously working out the most difficult equations he can think of in his head in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds of the moans, gasps and cries of pleasure coming from the bed not six feet away from him.

\--

When the man – finally – collapses on top of River after apparently satisfying both of them well, she lets out a content hum, allowing a few seconds stillness to settle between them in which only the sounds of their panting can be heard in the bedchamber, before she pushes at him. “Out.” She turns her eyes on the Doctor as the man scrambles to obey his empress. “Slave, draw me a bath.”

Ducking his head, the Doctor hurries to obey her on legs that are shaking so hard he can scarcely walk.

He has never been gladder to make the long trip to the water room and back several times with heavy bucketful’s – by the time the bath is sufficiently filled and hot enough, the mortifying evidence of his arousal has disappeared. Although, when he enters her room and announces that her bath is ready, River rises nude from her bed, stretching languidly, and the Doctor has to avert his eyes sharply before his problem quickly returns.

The Doctor stands in the corner of the room as she sinks into her bath with one of those low, pleasure-filled content sounding hums of hers. She leans back in the tub, letting out a sigh, and when he makes the mistake of letting his eyes flick over to her, the Doctor sees her own slide closed as she leans her head back; a small satisfied smile playing about her lips, and her body deliciously flushed and relaxed looking. He swallows hard and looks sharply away, ignoring the strangely horrible, tight feeling in his chest.

After relaxing there for a while, River leans over the side and retrieves the bar of soap the Doctor has placed there, and begins languidly washing while he pointedly looks everywhere but at her.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” she comments dryly as she lathes soap over her arms. Her laughing eyes flick upwards to glance into his. “Don’t you have some new mad theory you’re dying to tell me?”

Looking down at his shoes, the Doctor clears his throat. “No ma’am.”

She tilts her head at him. “Well something to do with one of the old ones, then.”

Frowning at the floor, he pauses before shaking his head tersely. “No ma’am.” It is a lie of course, but he doesn’t think he can stand here and talk to her about his work right now, not when his mind is filled with the visions of her naked, sweat glistening form writhing in pleasure, and his ears are still ringing from her moans.

Water sloshes. “Well what have you been doing with yourself all day?” She demands.

He shifts on his feet. “I was… I was just studying some of your books. On warfare.”

There’s a pause. “Oh,” she says, then she sniffs. “Well – good. It’s about time you learned something I can actually make use of.” Water sloshes as she rises from the tub. She snaps her fingers. “My robe.”

He crosses the room to pass it to her; eyes carefully averted as she steps out of the water and slides her arms into it. She turns, wrapping it around herself and looking the Doctor straight in the eye as she ties the knot on the front. His throat dry, he swallows and looks away. “I’ll empty this. Ma’am,” he mumbles quietly, and without another word, River turns and swans off to her bedchamber.

\--

The day after she is relaxing in her chambers sometime around mid-morning, content to sit curled up with a leather-bound book open on her lap while the Doctor works silently on the floor across the room from her. He’s managed to do a fairly good job of putting the scene he witnessed the previous night out of his mind (for now, at least) and finds he actually feels rather… content with her simple silent presence nearby him while he works. He is aware that he should probably find it startling how easily he is becoming used to her – the Doctor had always been a solitary creature, preferring to spend more time alone than in company and finding anyone else around him while he was working a distraction. River seems to have the opposite effect; he actually finds her presence rather calming… a comfort. None of it really makes much sense – he supposes he is just growing accustomed to her.

They glance up at a knock on her chamber doors, and a voice calls through. “It’s Quintus, your highness. I need to speak with you immediately.”

The Doctor glances at River, and at a nod from her, rises and hurries to open the door. The man hurries in past him, and closing it behind him, the Doctor moves over to stand quietly in the corner of the room, aware how odd it would seem for the empress’s slave to be amusing himself amongst a pile of scrolls on the floor of her chambers.

“What is it Quintus? You know I don’t like to be disturbed in here,” she speaks with a frown, setting aside her book.

“I know, and I apologise, but it’s… it’s Magnus, my lady, he was found in the grounds…”

River shoots to her feet. “I thought he was killed!?”

Quintus nods, once. “It seems that’s only what he wanted us to believe… he was found with a letter bearing the seal of our enemy… inside was information about our plans.”

Pacing, River whirls to face him. “He was spying!?”

The older man nods. “I believe he must have switched sides when he faked his death.”

Pacing again, River swears profusely in latin and the Doctor bites the insides of his cheeks in amusement at her colourful language. 

Quintus fidgets. “What would you have us do with him, your highness?”

River points a finger at him. “You get as much damn information out of him as he has – I need to know _everything_ he’s told them about us. I don’t care how you make him talk, just do it.”

He nods. “Yes my lady. And… after…?”

“What do you think,” she scowls. “Kill the treacherous bastard.”

In the corner, the Doctor sobers immediately, the ice in River’s tone making his blood run cold.

“Yes your highness.” Quintus turns to leave.

“Wait,” River stops him, and narrows her eyes at the older man.

“My lady…?”

“Who told us he was dead?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t recall… a boy I assume, a simple messenger… we were in a meeting at the time…”

Frowning deeply, River nods. “Yes, we were…” She thinks for a moment before looking up and fixing him with piercing green eyes. “Find that boy, and make sure he too is suitably punished for betraying his empress as well.”

Looking unnerved, Quintus nods slowly. “He… may have just been passing on a message he was given by another, my lady?”

River rolls her eyes. “Well _find out_ ,” she spits, “And see to it that _whoever_ was responsible for this abhorrent deception is punished!”

“Y – yes, my lady.”

“And if he won’t talk, kill him anyway.” She waves a hand. “Leave me.”

Bowing his head, Quintus scurries out of the room.

The Doctor stares at her, horrified as she paces her chambers for several moments after the other man leaves, muttering angrily to herself. Finally she snaps her cold gaze up to his.

“What are you staring at?” She demands. “Fetch me a bloody drink.”

A little terrified, the Doctor rushes to obey, pouring amber liquid into a goblet and passing it to her with trembling hands. She downs it in one go.

“I’m going to have to call off the attack. If he’s told them, there could be an ambush waiting for us.”

Not knowing if she wants his input, the Doctor thinks it wise to remain silent, nodding his agreement.

There is one thing he cannot remain silent about however… “The boy…”

She snaps narrowed green eyes up to his. “What about him?”

The Doctor licks his dry lips. “He could be innocent, ma’am…”

“Yes,” she says, scowling,” And if he is, he’ll tell us who _isn’t_ , if he knows what’s good for him.”

The Doctor swallows. “And if he doesn’t… you’d have him killed anyway?”

River glares at him for a terrifying few seconds, before she shoves her empty goblet at him and turns to bend and pick up her wrap. Throwing it around her shoulders, she stalks off towards the door.

“You’d do well to remember that you are not my advisor but my _slave_ , _Doctor,”_ she spits she word at him, pausing by the door. “And watch your damn tongue.”

She turns and stalks from the room, slamming the heavy door forcefully behind her, and turning the key in the lock.

 

\--


	5. Chapter 5

The empress returns late – after dinner time, and the Doctor quickly scuttles to the corner, parchments in hand when he hears the key in the lock. He still hasn’t shared the extra plans he made with her yet and knowing he’d angered her yet again earlier that day, he’d like to get back on her good side, and thinks this is probably the best way.

She glances at him as she swans in, a platter in hand, and he bows silently, watching quietly as she makes her way over to her dining table and sets it down before turning to face him and letting out a sigh.

“I’d forgotten there was no food in here,” she says, and he may be imagining it but he thinks her tone is almost… apologetic? “Eat.”

His stomach growling at the sight of the plate of delicious looking food, the Doctor wastes no time in doing so, thanking her sincerely as he moves over to the plate of food.

“You’d be no use to me if you passed out,” she says over her shoulder as she wanders off to her bedchamber.

Ravenous, the Doctor wolfs the plate of food down and is almost finished by the time River re-emerges in a simpler dress and with her curls loose round her shoulders. She approaches the table, and waves him back down when the Doctor hastily makes to stand.

“This is a list of the information the - that – _traitor,”_ she spits the word out, “divulged,” River explains, setting the piece of parchment down in front of the Doctor. “I need your help sorting this damn mess out.”

Nodding slowly as his eyes skim the page, the Doctor licks his lips and looks up at her. “I – I made some extra plans – here, they’re all written down…” he fumbles with the papers beside him, passing them to her. “You may be able to make use of some of them.”

Glancing over the pages, the Doctor watches as a small smile lifts the corners of River’s lips. She nods, and looks up at him. “This… has probably saved me a day.” The Doctor risks a tentative smile back at her and River opens her mouth again – and he thinks for a moment she is going to say thank you – when she quickly clears her throat and nods again. “Nice work, slave. Now,” she sets them down, sitting down herself next to him at the table. “Taking into account all of this,” she taps the parchment in front of him, “Why don’t we see what we’ve got here that can work?”

\--

River calms down considerably after the long night they spend going over her plans together, and for the next few days following she is wonderfully mellow. There’s a certain smugness about her calm state that the Doctor knows is her knowledge that the next phase of her battle plans are won before they’ve even began, and it occurs to him that – as much as it pains him to do so (war is such an _ugly_ thing), helping River with her battle plans and conquests is the way to her heart. That is to say – not that her heart is a thing he has any interest in, just that it makes her pleased with him, and River’s good side is certainly the one he wants to be on.

“Good day, mistress?” He asks pleasantly as he takes her cloak from her shoulders of an evening. With the good mood she’s been in lately the Doctor has been feeling brave enough to dare to speak to her when she hasn’t addressed him, and so far River hasn’t seemed to mind.

“Fine,” she says, waving him after her as she makes her way to her bedchamber. The cloak folded over his arm, the Doctor follows, setting to hanging it up once inside as River climbs onto her large bed.

“Come – my back aches. A throne may be beautiful but it’s certainly not made for comfort,” she sighs as she lies back and shifts onto her stomach, settling into her bed and lying still. The Doctor makes his way over and hovers, unsure what she wants him to do.

“Uh –”

She rolls her shoulders. “I’m waiting, slave.”

She wants him to massage her? Tentatively he reaches his hands out and places them lightly on her shoulder blades, and when she gives no reaction he sighs in relief that his assumption had been correct. Clearing his throat, he rubs upwards, gently circling the flats of his hands over her shoulders. Without the cloak, the gown she wears is backless, and his eyes sweep the expanse of golden skin before him – and so soft to the touch. He represses a shiver, and applies a little more pressure. River hums beneath his hands and warmth fills the Doctor’s insides.

Pressing his palms into her shoulders, he rubs in gentle circles until River shifts and murmurs a breathy order of, “Harder.”

He complies, applying more pressure and kneading her neck with his fingertips in a way that draws the most delightful soft noises he’s ever heard from her. Noises not all that dissimilar to that night he’d stood in here while she had –

Right. Yes. Not going there. Definitely very bad thoughts.

“Lower too,” she tells him. “There’s a horrible knot in my spine and we ride out in three days; I can’t be stiff.”

His hands pause at that. “…Y -You, my lady?”

“Mm.”

His brow furrows. “You fight?”

She snorts lightly. “Of course I fight. What kind of leader would I be if I sat here on a throne while my men went out and did my conquering for me?”

“But… you’re a woman…”

River tenses beneath his hands which are still resting lightly on the middle of her bare back. “And you’re going to be a slave without a head if you ever say that like that again,” she spits suddenly, and the Doctor pales.

“Sorry mistress – so sorry, I – I didn’t – I only meant – I just meant that you –”

“Get on with it,” she demands shortly, and he quickly obeys, rubbing hands that tremble slightly now over her skin again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again after a pause, once he feels River has started to relax once more under his ministrations. “I didn’t mean – it – it was just a surprise. In my country women never went to war – only the men. I’m sorry, it’s clearly different here and I didn’t realise.”

There is another pause and he thinks River isn’t going to reply, and quietly gets on with rubbing firm circles into either side of her spine, when she sighs. “It’s not,” she says, voice soft again. “Generally it… it’s the same here. And I’ve had to spend my whole life fighting to prove that my gender makes me no weaker than any man.”

He smiles softly, dragging his fingers down her back. “I’d say that would be pretty obvious to anyone who met you.”

“Maybe now,” she agrees. “It’s wasn’t easy to get to where I am though.”

“Well,” the Doctor says softly as he rubs her back. “I think you’re pretty amazing for having done so.”

A small silence settles between them again, and the Doctor finds that the empress makes the most sinfully low sound when he circles his thumbs into the small of her back, so he cannot resist lingering there, pressing again and again just to hear her moan, trying to ignore the way it is making his mouth dry and his pulse quicken.

“I’ve had enough talk.” She rolls suddenly to face him, his hands sliding to her sides as she does so and he quickly withdraws them, wringing them together as he watches her with wide eyes. “Is that all you can do, _Doctor?”_

His eyes widening more at the intensity in her gaze and the use of his name – it may have been in mocking but still – she has used it only a couple of times in the entire time he’s known her. “…Mistress?”

She reclines back on her bed, piercing green eyes locked onto his.

“Pleasure me,” she demands, and the Doctor freezes, his mouth opening and cheeks reddening.

He stares at her, eyes flickering over her body in something of a panic.

The smirk fading from her lips, River leans up on her elbows and frowns at him. “Do you like men?” She asks abruptly.

He blinks. “Wh – what?”

“Is that it? You prefer male company to female?”

“Well…” he rubs the back of his neck, a little confused by the sudden change in topic. “I er… I’d never really thought about it. I’ve spent more time around men than women I suppose and I guess I find it easier to make conversation with them – that is – not to say women don’t make good conversation too, I mean you are very –”

River huffs dramatically and rolls her eyes. “I mean _sexually_ you idiot.”

“- Oh. I – _oh._ ” He blushes red. “Of course not!” He squeaks. “I – I – ” He gestures at her. “I like women, women are, are… well… you’re all…” He mimes her curves with his hands then realises how ridiculous that probably is and tucks them behind his back, flushing further and clearing his throat. The irritation is fading from River’s face and being replaced by amusement, and the Doctor grows hotter, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

Smirking at him again, she lays back once more. “Excellent. There’s no problem then.”

His eyes widen. “I –”

“Pleasure me,” she orders again. “Slave.”

Realising he really has no choice in the matter, the Doctor swallows, and tentatively crawls over her where he hovers, eyes flickering over her form and having a brief moment of panic before he swallows down his nerves and lifts a trembling hand to gently cup one of her full breasts, thumb gliding over the hardened nub of her nipple through the silken cloth.

It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to – not like he hasn’t noticed how breathtakingly, dangerously beautiful she is and not like she hadn’t invaded his dreams in all sorts of illicit ways more than once, and that he hadn’t stood in the corner of the room while she was in bed with a man with a raging hard-on desperately trying not to imagine it was _him_ between her thighs making her cry out in all those beautiful ways.

It’s just that – well…

“Have you ever done this before?” She asks suddenly and he looks up at her in panic.

“Uh – I er…” He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “That obvious, huh?”

River’s eyes widen, and she abruptly sits up, sending him flailing backwards. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, “It all makes sense now. Really – _never!?”_

Face red, he shakes his head, staring intently down at his lap. “Well I just – you know, I – I’ve always been so busy with my research and – and it never left much time for – for women – everyone’s always seemed to think I’m mad anyway - and well…”

He trails off when he realises that River is chuckling at him, and his face burns further. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, making to clamber off the bed. “I’ll – I can call for someone for you –“

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “You’ll do, sweetie.” She leans back again, and beckons him with a finger. “Come, I’ll teach you.”

“Um –” He moves back up beside her, and lying back, River grabs his wrist and uses his hand to push up her silken toga, parting smooth tanned legs until he has a full view of the one part of River Song he has so far been yet to see. He snaps his eyes away, glancing up into her face nervously to see her watching him with a smile on her lips. Holding eye contact with him, she takes his hand and pushes it between her thighs, guiding his fingers down into her hot, wet folds. The Doctor’s lips part as he feels the slickness beneath his fingers and he feels his body react to the feel of her and the scent that’s quickly filling the air.

Shifting her hips, River strokes his fingers through her slippery folds, pushing the pads of them against her opening before guiding them back up until she presses them firmly to the little nub he can feel at the top of her sex. She moans, eyes fluttering as she pushes her hips into his touch.

“There,” she breathes, pressing his fingers against her again. “Oh yes – touch me there…”

He tentatively strokes his fingertips over the little nub and River moans encouragingly. Her hand slips from his to grip a fistful of the bedsheet instead and he continues in the steady stroking rhythm, watching mesmerised as her hips rock gently in time. Growing bold he applies a bit more pressure and she sighs, arching a bit into the pillows as he strokes her. Dear gods she is beautiful.

He tells her, unable to stop himself murmuring the words to her, and her eyes flutter open to find his, and he finds himself transfixed by the way they are glazed and clouded with her desire, the green appearing darker than he’s ever seen it.

“More,” she breathes, and when he hesitates, her hand covers his again and she guides those fingers down, through her slick hot folds to press the pads of his middle and index finger against her entrance. She tilts her hips up encouragingly and nods when he glances up at her, unsure, and he carefully eases his fingers inside. He is surprised to find how smoothly they slide within her, so wet she is inside and out, and he breathes out in wonder as he feels her inner walls stretch and flutter around him – she feels so incredible inside, so tight and hot and slick and he can only imagine how it would feel to be properly buried inside her, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his trousers in response. He shifts a bit against the discomfort, and then experimentally slides his fingers out and then within her again. River moans.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs after a moment, and River nods.

“More,” she demands, and presses his palm to the top of her sex, grinding down against the pressure. “And keep touching me here. Curl your fingers inside a little – ohh – yes, just like that, that’s perfect, right there, oh, _sweetie…”_

His heart jumps a little at her words – she had only ever called him that in a mocking tone before but the way she’d breathed the word just now… it sounded much closer to the endearment it implied and he finds himself feeling elated by it.

He strokes her more determinedly, picking up his pace and watching enraptured as River grows ever more feverish beneath his hand. Letting out a particularly loud moan, back arching off the bed, River trails one trembling hand up over her own body, slipping it beneath the low neckline of her dress and cupping her own breast in her palm, squeezing and playing with it, drawing it out of her dress as she takes her nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinches. The Doctor groans, so hard he is in physical pain as he pleasures her, and he wonders if it is possible for him to come without manual stimulation, just from the sight and the feel of River clenching around his fingers.

The Doctor knows very little about sex, but he had heard from listening to the crude conversations of the other men when he was aboard the ship and in quarters here with them, that women can achieve a climax too, and he knows by watching the way River’s breath is coming out shorter, her cries growing louder and close together and her body tensing and beginning to quiver that she is close to reaching her own. He also knows that he wants nothing more in the world than to see her fall apart beneath his touch.

He doesn’t have to wait long; she gasps suddenly, throwing her head back, hips flying off the bed as her whole body shudders, and her free hand scrambles for purchase on the silken sheets beneath her, as he feels her inner walls clamp and clutch and quiver around his fingers. She is the is the single most beautiful, arousing sight he has ever seen, and he is as breathless as she is when she finally slumps and pulls his hand away, his heart pounding beneath his ribcage, and a wetness inside his toga that tells him his earlier suspicions had been correct.

Flushed and panting, River lifts his hand to her mouth, and with a wicked smirk on her lips, she licks slowly up one of his fingers, his eyes widening as she laps at her own essence and hums, low in her throat, before guiding his fingers to his own lips.

He gasps, the heady scent of her hitting him strongly once again, and finds his mouth watering as he stares at the slickened digest, then glances over to see River watching him with an eyebrow quirked expectantly. Without further hesitation, he leans forward and takes his two fingers inside his mouth, the delicious flavour of her bursting over his tongue as he licks and sucks greedily, groaning softly, until his hand is clean and she lets him slide his fingers from his mouth with a wet ‘pop’.

She smirks at him.

“You’re incredible,” he speaks hoarsely, and River smiles.

“I’m not quite finished yet.” She eyes his mouth with hunger, and licks her lips, looking back up into his eyes.

“Have you ever kissed a woman?”

Face flushing, the Doctor quickly nods. “Yes, well, no – yes, I mean, I think. I must have done, at some point. I’m sure I have, of course...”

Letting out a low chuckle, River slides a hand onto the back of his neck and beckons him close with a finger, reclining back against her pillows as she guides him down on top of her, and then suddenly his lips are on hers.

It’s sweet and gentle at first, a soft press of their lips together, but then River opens her mouth beneath his and licks at his lips, and when they part in a gasp of surprise, she slips her tongue between them and strokes it along his own.

He can taste her essence in their kiss, and it serves only to make him all the hungrier for her, his head spinning as she kisses him deep and thoroughly. When she lets out a moan into the kiss, he answers with a groan of his own, sliding hands that rest hesitantly on her shoulders down her sides, unable to resist cupping the full weight of her breasts in his palms, and smiling into the kiss when River licks at the inside of his mouth all the more desperately for it. Hand tangling in his hair, River draws his tongue into her own mouth and sucks on it, moaning lowly again, a hum of satisfaction and desire before she slowly releases him and leans back.

“Wow,” he breathes out, stunned, and she laughs.

“Now, I want you to kiss me like that,” she says, voice low and breathy, dropping another peck to his lips, “Where you just touched me.”

The Doctor freezes, and stares down at her in alarm. “You mean…?” He glances down, and River nods. He stares at her, eyes flickering down and up again, and he licks his lips nervously. “A – are you sure?”

Smiling, amused, she rolls her eyes. “I am so very sure, sweetie.”

He hesitates, blinking. “You… want my mouth…” another glance down. “Down there?” He clarifies.

“Yes,” she draws the word out, then snorts at his look of bemusement, quirking an eyebrow. “You’ve seriously never heard of cunnilingus?”

“Oh,” his brow furrows. “No, I have – just didn’t know what it meant. Ah. Things are making sense now…”

River laughs, a genuine sound of amusement, before she slides two small hands into his hair and nudges him insistently downwards.

Swallowing hard, the Doctor slides down on the bed, settling between the empress’s thighs as she lets her knees fall open further. The scent of her hits him stronger than ever, and remembering the heady taste of her on his tongue, his mouth waters as he stares at her glistening sex. She is pink and swollen and beautiful, and to his surprise, he finds himself dipping down eagerly to let his tongue slide over her, suddenly ravenous for her taste once more. She moans, a low, pleased sound as he laps hesitantly at her, and he pauses to glance up at her, taste buds tingling. River quirks an eyebrow.

“Go on,” she says, and he thinks she is trying to sound impatient but her voice comes out breathless and hoarse. He grins in delight and glances back down. She is so wet, her sex and inner thighs coated with her pleasure and he groans aloud as he leans close and breathes in the musky scent of her.

Her fingers tighten in his hair and she tugs impatiently, nudging her hips up towards his mouth, and knowing it’s definitely not a good idea to keep his mistress waiting, the Doctor leans in and licks up along the length of her again. He takes a moment to just explore, sliding his tongue up and down between her slick folds, mapping her out, committing every inch to memory before River tugs again, a small whinge leaving her lips and he quickly locates the little nub she’d showed him with the tip of his tongue. The empress shouts when he flicks over it, so sharply he snaps his head up in alarm.

“Mistress?”

“Oh gods, _keep going_ ,” she demands crossly, roughly pushing his head back down, and he quickly complies, lapping at the spot again and gaining himself another cry of pleasure.

“You like that, then?” He clarifies, smirking against her as he licks at her once more.

“Mmmm,” she groans, “Right there – use the tip of your – _oh!”_ Her hips buck into his face as he circles his tongue firmly round her clit, and then she is gasping, and he feels her sex quiver against his chin. He nudges at her entrance as he continues to lick her and she grinds up against the pressure eagerly.

Pausing, he lifts his head just enough to speak, “Do you – my fingers – do you want me inside again?” He asks hesitantly.

River blinks down at him, looking dazed, and she shakes her head quickly, hand trembling as she moves her own fingers to her clit like she can’t help herself.

“Your tongue,” she pants out, “I want your tongue inside me.”

His eyes widen momentarily, before he quickly nods and ducks back down. River’s fingers are sliding over herself quickly now, hips making little circular movements in time to her rhythm, and eyeing her hungrily, the Doctor grasps her hips in his hands to hold her still, and opening his mouth wide over her, he stiffens his tongue and slides it as deep inside her as he can. She moans loudly, small fingers moving quicker, and the Doctor laps at her inner walls. Remembering what she’d liked before, he curls his tongue upwards and licks her firmly inside, and the ache in his jaw already is worth it for the cry she lets out.

At the urging of her hand in his hair, he continues there as her gasps and moans grow louder, but her fingers keep bumping against his nose so he moves them out of the way, and when River whinges he pulls his tongue out of her and licks upwards to lap furiously at her where her own hand had just been working, sliding two of his own fingers beneath his chin and back inside her.

She swears profusely – in English and Latin, her fingers nearly painful in his hair as she keeps him pulled tight to her, hips bucking, demands not to stop, never stop, spilling from her lips as she rides his hand and mouth until he feels her tighten around him again. He presses up higher inside her, pushes his tongue more firmly against her and is unable to prevent himself from letting out a groan of utter pleasure at how incredible she feels and that appears to be her undoing, for she is clamping around his fingers and shouting her release within seconds.

He loves how she flutters and quivers around him, and is reluctant to move away even when she slumps down, clearly spent, still lapping at her lazily as her sex twitches against his lips and her body trembles lightly as she lets out tiny gasps.

River pushes at him finally, squirming away, and he obliges, withdrawing his fingers and lifting his head to look up at her in dazed delight. He moves up, licking his lips, and settles over her cradled between her thighs, unable to stop himself from grinning with delight down into her flushed face. He is painfully hard and throbbing again but it doesn’t matter; River is wearing the most enchanting satisfied smile, and she is so deliciously out of breath, her eyes hooded and pupils dilated and the Doctor practically vibrates with the satisfaction of knowing that _he_ did that to her. He pleased this woman – this incredible, powerful, strong and capable empress lays beneath him panting, undone and satisfied because of _him._ It is an intoxicating feeling, and although he has had only a taste, the Doctor feels like he may be forever addicted already.

“Was that okay?” He asks with a smirk that belies the fact that he knows damn well that was so very okay.

Still smiling softly, River nods. “You’re a quick learner sweetie,” she purrs.

He grins smugly down at her, unable to resist leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her neck, breathing in the delicious scent of her. “You’re a wonderful teacher.”

She snorts. “You’re my slave. I’m simply training you to perform a service I wish you to.”

Pausing, he swallows hard. Right. He’d almost forgotten. “Of course.”

She pushes at him, turning her head. “Draw my bath. And fetch me something to eat.”

Scrambling off her bed, face a little red, he nods hurriedly. “Yes ma’am.”           

“Oh and – slave?”                           

He pauses halfway out of her room, and turns to see her watching him from her bed. A small smile comes to her lips. “You pleased me well.” She drags her eyes languidly over his form. “Next time I might let you fuck me properly.” Her eyes glide back to his own. “If you’re a good boy.” He gapes at her, heart beating fast and erection aching anew inside his toga. She lounges back, stretching with a content sigh, and waves a hand at him dismissively. “My bath.”

“Y – yes mistress,” he turns, almost tripping over his feet in a delirious daze as he hurries to obey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sweeties, this is where you've caught up to me. I mean - i have a tonne more written for future chapters here and there but linearly this is as far as I've got. (i write in bits and pieces then go back and fill it in lol...) So you're going to have to be a little patient with me as I write this - but I have christmas holis coming up soon so shouldn't be too busy and really i want to try and get this done before i go back so hopefully the wait between chapters won't be too long. I appreciate the support and lovely comments so far sooo much, you are all wonderful and I'm so happy you all seem to be enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it :)


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Slave,” River calls him over from where he is hunched over a pile of parchments in the corner of her chambers. “I need you to polish my armour for tomorrow. I trust you’ll do a good enough job of it.” She gives him a look that warns he will be in trouble if he doesn’t, and he swallows a bit, nodding hastily.

“Yes ma’am. The armour in the cupboard?”

“Yes. There’s boots in there too – see that they’re clean as well.”

“Of course.”

River nods, waving him away, and goes back to the map she is quietly studying.

Stomach churning uncomfortably at the mention of tomorrow, the Doctor shuffles on his feet, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Uh - when do you ride out, ma’am?”

“Dawn,” she answers without looking up.

“Will you be gone long?”

She shakes her head, biting into an apple. “Four days, at most. Three if we’re lucky – but I’m expecting there to be a fair amount of resistance.”

The Doctor swallows, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. “And… you… - you have guards, right? I – I mean you’re not alone out there – on the battlefield. You’re the empress, right, so you have men protecting you specifically –”

River looks up at him, head tilted, a challenge in her steely gaze. “Who says I need protecting?”

The Doctor frowns. “It’s a battlefield,” he snaps before he can stop himself, blundering on without pausing as his thoughts spill from his lips. “And _you’re_ the one every single soldier on the other side will want dead most – damn it – I’m not suggesting you’re _weak_ , I’m saying that everyone out there is going to want your blood and you shouldn’t just be going head first into the midst of it – it’s _dangerous_ and it’s _stupid_ and if you think that you –”

“Enough!” River snaps, flying to her feet, and jumping, the Doctor immediately snaps his mouth shut. She frowns at him, both of them breathing slightly hard, and he cringes at the realisation of how he’d spoken to her, bracing himself for her inevitable temper.

But her wrath - incredibly – doesn’t come. He sees her swallow, and frown deeper. “Why do you care so much?” She says, voice quiet and curious – achingly, bemusedly curious.

The Doctor lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and lets his head drop, running a hand through his hair. He swallows. “You’re my empress,” he answers quietly, and when she doesn’t reply and he risks a glance up he finds her still frowning at him.

“Yes,” she says softly. “That’s the answer, isn’t it?”

He frowns back and her, and before he can ask what she means, she looks away, demeanour changing. “I need to get ready for dinner,” she announces brightly, and snaps her fingers, wandering off. “Come, help me change.”

They don’t speak of it while he undresses her then helps her into a fine silken gown of purple, draping gold ornaments round her neck and wrists and winding the laces of pretty sandals neatly up round her legs.

River has not asked for his… _attentions_ again since that one night two days ago, but she’s suggested often enough that there will be other times. And doing things like this for her – dressing her, helping her bathe, are now suddenly so much easier. He knows he doesn’t need to stop himself from looking – he knows she likes it when he sweeps his gaze over her form appreciatively, relishes the low hum she gives as he lets his hands slide slowly down her sides after fastening her gown. He aches for the chance to touch her again but he is patient; he doesn’t doubt it will be worth the wait.

“How do I look?” She asks him now, turning to face him and smoothing small jewel-adorned hands over the front of her dress.

He’s looked enough but the Doctor knows she wants his eyes on her again so he takes his time in taking in every inch of her appreciatively, making no attempt to mask the smoky lust in his gaze. “Breath-taking, my lady,” he murmurs softly.

River preens, tossing her curls over her shoulder as she turns and motions for her cloak. He retrieves it and drapes it over her shoulders, fingers gliding round over her collarbones to carefully fasten it at the front. They tremble slightly with his desire, and River smiles quietly.

She steps away from him, making her way through her chambers towards the door with him on her heels. “Find something from the kitchens to eat, I’ll be back late.”

“Yes mistress.”

“And – slave?” She pauses as she reaches the door, looking at him strangely.

“Yes, mistress?”

“If anyone needs protecting out there tomorrow…” she pauses to let a smile come to her lips, teeth and eyes gleaming. “It’s the other side.”

Her confidence may be intoxicatingly attractive, but it doesn’t fill the Doctor with any more ease.

\--

The empress doesn’t come back half as late as he’d expected at all, and the Doctor is halfway through a complicated equation when she saunters through the door, cheeks flushed, and a smile on her face that tells him she’s had a pleasant evening – and probably a few glasses of wine.

Her eyes scan the room before she finds him, and she grins wider, holding out a hand towards him. “Ah! There you are. Come,” she motions to him.

“Good evening ma’am,” he greets politely. “I’ll be right there.”

“No,” River frowns, dropping her hand. “ _Now_.”

Head snapping up at the sharp tone, he swallows. “I was just –” He cuts himself off at her furious glare, and scrambles to his feet. “Of course,” he mumbles as he hurries over to her.

River frowns at him. “What were you doing that was so interesting?” She demands.

“Nothing ma’am – just in the middle of working out some figures.”

“Oh.” She saunters past him, over to his pile of papers in the corner where she crouches down, peering at them curiously. “What’s this for?”

“The theory I told you about the other day? I was just working on some evidence – so far everything’s added up but I need to work out that last equation to see if it really proves it.”

River hmms as she shuffles through the pieces of parchment. “Well this is certainly very interesting.” She pauses a moment on the last page he’d been scrolling on, eyes narrowed as she gazes at the figures. She stands, smoothing her dress down. “The answer’s two point one four eight, by the way.”

Eyebrows shooting upwards, the Doctor gapes at her, stunned for a moment, before hurrying back over to his papers and dropping down to go over them, muttering frantically to himself as he checks her answer against the other figures he’d come up with. He gapes up at her, mouth open.

“How did you work that out?”

She laughs, shrugging smugly. “I’ve got a head for figures.” She begins to stroll off. “Now come, I need you in my bedchamber.”

He holds up a finger, nodding, and still in utter shock as he quickly scribbles down her answer, and then hurries after her, entering her bedroom to find her sitting on her bed, removing her heavy jewellery. Stepping forward to help her, he smiles, glancing into her eyes.

“Nobody knows how clever you really are, do they?” He asks softly as he unhooks her heavy neckpiece and lifts it from her.

She shrugs, looking down at her wrists as she goes about removing her many gold bracelets. “They know enough of my intelligence to be threatened by it.”

“Yes but…” he pauses, and waits until she lifts her eyes to his. “They don’t know you can do things like that, do they? That you can work out – _insanely_ complicated equations in your head in a matter of seconds, that your brain is probably more powerful than all your land’s philosophers put together?”

She looks up at him under her lashes, smiling. “Why sweetie – you flatter me,” she purrs.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I say it how it is.”

The teasing smile fades from her lips, and River sighs, shaking her head. “They don’t, no. Some people did… a long time ago. When I was child, there were some who realised that I was… above average. And they –” She cuts off suddenly, wide eyes flying to his, and then she frowns and looks away, shaking her head, before getting up abruptly. “Undress me,” she demands, turning her back to him and closing off.

Understanding that River had just spoken about something that she hadn’t meant to – something she usually kept hidden – the Doctor clears his throat and obeys her quickly, knowing not to question. Though curiosity burns inside his head as his nimble fingers unlace her elaborate gown…

The material drops to the floor with a soft thud, and she turns in his arms just as a million questions are whirling round his head – and every thought evaporates at the sight of his empress wearing nothing but a smile.

A very seductive, purposeful smile. She takes his hands in her own, sitting back down on her bed and tugging him with her as she crawls backwards up the bed, until she is reclined back against her plush pillows and the Doctor is on his knees over her.

“Touch me,” she says, and spreads her legs invitingly.

Blood rushing in his ears, the Doctor grins at her before diving down eagerly, hands gripping her hips as he opens his mouth straight over her sex.

She gasps beneath him, body jumping and hands flying to his hair which she yanks viciously. “A little warning!” She squeaks out, and the Doctor lifts his head in confusion.

“But – you said to –“

She huffs, squirming against the sheets. “I didn’t mean to start straight – oh – never mind,” she gives in with a roll of her eyes, tugging him back down to her and moaning lowly as he obediently licks a line up through her folds. “We’ll cover foreplay next time.”

River is, if possible, even more vocal than last time as he licks and mouths and sucks at her slick pink sex. He puts it down to the wine, and he can’t say he minds at all as he slides his tongue inside her and she shouts an obscenity in Latin.

Relishing the way her inner walls contract and clench around his tongue, he laps her inside for a moment, listening to her moans, before licking back up to open his mouth over that tiny little nub that seems to be some sort of magical button on her pleasure.

“Oh! – Wait, stop, stop,” she suddenly begs, breathless, and the Doctor lifts his head, lips glistening and eyes wide.

“Was – was that not right?”

Panting hard, River shakes her head, pulling herself up. “It was perfect – but I don’t want that.”

Confused, the Doctor’s brow furrows. “But – I thought you said –“

Hands in his hair, she draws him up, tugging at him and guiding with firm hands until she has him laid out on his back on the bed next to her, where she proceeds to swing a leg over his hips to straddle him. He chokes out a gasp as her hot core grinds down against his erection, and River smirks as she leans down to flick her tongue over the corner of his mouth, humming softly.

She grinds down again and his hips buck up into hers involuntarily, another gasp falling from his lips as his erection throbs and aches.

“Take your clothes off, sweetie,” she purrs against his lips before lifting herself off him.

The Doctor’s hands fumble as River kneels on the bed next to him, shaking her curls out, unabashed as she watches him while wearing nothing but a smile. She stares silently for a moment as he fumbles with trembling hands, failing spectacularly before she laughs, leaning over to help with the tie of his toga.

Together they get it undone, and River’s steady, competent hands push it from his form, stripping him as bare as she is and tossing the cotton material behind her carelessly. She pauses, taking her time to take in the sight of his naked body, and he squirms, shy and uncertain beneath her steamy gaze.

River is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, every inch of her form toned perfection, yet still so soft and womanly with gorgeous curves he couldn’t have dreamed up if he’d tried. In short, River is stunning; she’s damn near perfection and he is suddenly overcome with the crippling fear of not being good enough for her. He remembers the man the other night, the one he’d watched her in bed with – he’d been tall, tanned and muscular – probably a soldier or some such thing… he stares up at River now as she eyes him with unmistakable hunger, tongue flicking out to wet her lips, and the Doctor swallows. What could she possibly want with him?

The empress snorts softly, and one of those small, warm hands smooth down over his torso. “Don’t sell yourself so short, sweetie,” she says, giving him a smirk. Her hand reaches wiry curls and her fingertips brush through them inching down until she wraps her hand round his aching cock. His mouth falls open in a gasp and she squeezes him, smirking wider. “You’ll do just fine.”

It’s only then he realises her words were in answer to him, and is surprised he’s spoken out loud. She’s hardly even begun and he’s losing control of his brain.

The empress brushes steady fingertips up along his length, stroking him softly, teasingly just once before moving her hands to his chest and shifting, swinging one leg over him to straddle his body once more. She moves, sliding the wet heat of her sex up along him, following the path her fingers had just made, and the Doctor chokes, hips bucking up uncontrollably, and pulling a grunt from River.

He gasps. “Sorry – I –“

“It’s fine,” she laughs breathlessly, holding herself away, face flushed. She settles over his abdomen, rubbing herself on him, hips rocking just gently, and eyelids fluttering as she speaks. “Just don’t want this to be over before it starts,” she teases, giving him a look that makes him blush.

River takes one of his hands and moves it to her chest where he cups one of her glorious breasts. She lets out another small moan, hips still circling as her hand moves to her other breast and she squeezes, and pinches her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, sighing in pleasure. The Doctor eagerly copies, mesmerised when the little pink nub grows even harder beneath his gentle touch. He pinches again, applying more pressure, and River’s mouth falls open in pleasure as she arches into his hand.

Her wetness is seeping onto his stomach, and the Doctor groans, trying not to thrust his hips up against air. Seemingly taking the hint, River opens her eyes and pushes herself up onto her knees, shuffling backwards enough to align him with her burning heat. She makes to reach down between them to grasp him in her hand when she pauses suddenly, her wet heat hovering over him, and looks straight into his eyes.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes widening in surprise at her question, he nods hurriedly. “Yes - of course mistress - if -if it's what you want?” He checks, suddenly unsure. 

The empress bites her lip, shaking her head quickly. “I’m not asking you as your mistress,” she says quietly to his utter shock, dark green eyes boring into his.

Realising that she is giving him something that as her slave, he is never supposed to have; a choice, the Doctor takes a deep breath, one trembling hand sliding up over River’s thigh and curling round her hip. His cock twitches beneath them, and his whole body aches for hers, but he sees something in her eyes too – something he’s never seen there before. 

He’d thought the empress was everything that River Song was, but suddenly with the dropping of their statuses… he sees the woman beneath the ruler.

And he doesn’t think he could ever want anyone else like he wants her this minute.

“Yes,” he says. “I do want you. So much.”

She grins, eyes gleaming. “Excellent,” she purrs, and just like that, the empress is back.

“Now,” she says, voice low and soft as she curls her hand round him and positions him at her entrance where he can feel the searing heat of her sex over him. “Do try not to come straight away sweetie,” and with that, she sinks slowly down onto him.

His eyes roll back in his head as he is surrounded by her wet warmth, and the Doctor thinks he may possibly die of ecstasy tonight; right here beneath her. He can’t think of a better way to go.

It is a blur after that, a blur of pleasure, heat, and River Song. And when he finally spills inside her – it could be after minutes, hours, days… he collapses underneath her, so dazed from the high he scarcely even registers River working her own hand between her thighs, bouncing once, twice more on top of him before stiffening and giving a shout of her own as her hips shudder over his.

She lets his softening cock slip out of her and rolls over to collapse on her back next to him, panting hard for breath and covered in a sheen of sweat. He turns his head to look at her through unfocused eyes and he thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

Desperate to know if he’s pleased her, the Doctor lifts himself on an elbow and looks down at her anxiously.

“Was that okay?”

She turns her head to look back at him, and she chuckles, a low, amused sound that fills him with warmth. “Just fine,” she tells him, reaching a hand over to pat his arm. “Although _I_ did all the work.”

His eyes widen, stomach dropping. “Sorry, I –“

“It’s fine,” she rolls her eyes at his panic. “You had to learn somehow, hm?”

“You’re… you’re not mad?”

She laughs again, as if the question is amusing to her. “No,” she tells him, sighing contentedly and rolling to align her naked form to his. “I’m not mad.” She settles down there, her eyes closing, their breathing starting to even out.

The Doctor watches her in mesmerisation for a moment as her breathing gradually slows, sweat beginning to dry on her skin before he realises where he is and quickly makes to rise from the bed and leave her to sleep - but to his utter surprise, River stops him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“It’s fine, slave,” she murmurs quietly, curling herself more contentedly into his form. “You can sleep here tonight.”

He lays back down but cannot find anything to say for the shock.

“It’s a little cold tonight,” she says then, “You’ll keep me warm.”

Nodding, he relaxes, settling down into River’s deep soft bed, pulling silk sheets up over the two of them, making sure to tuck them up snuggly round the empress’s form. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a situation of dubious consent in this chapter on the Doctor’s side… its nothing bad – I wouldn’t have bothered with a warning just that I’ve got in trouble for not warning about similar things before so idk, heads up or whatever. ;)

The empress had been in a foul temper as the Doctor had buckled her into her armour so early that morning the moon had still been up. She was tired and tense, snapping at him for every little thing and even hurling her boot across the room where it knocked a vase to the floor to smash into little pieces when she found out he hadn’t thought to fetch some breakfast for her before she’d asked.

The Doctor had kept his head down and done his best to appease her; he knew she was just on edge about the upcoming battle, but it had stung a little that the woman he’d found glimpses of last night, the one who had fell asleep curled into his form, her gentle even breath warm on his neck was apparently nowhere to be seen.

 It is mid-morning now, and she and her army had left many hours ago. The clatter of hooves and armour as he’d watched them ride out through the palace courtyard from the empress’s chambers still rang in his ears, and the image of that mass of curls pouring out from under her helmet as she rode off is burnt onto his brain. He tries not to think about the fact that there is a chance it could be the last image of her he will ever see.  

He sleeps fitfully while she is gone, and worries near every minute. Of course – he’s mostly worried because if something… _happens_ to her, if she never returns then what would become of him?

He may be a little worried about her, too.

The Doctor knows he is becoming a little… fond is perhaps too inappropriate a feeling to apply to the woman to whom he is enslaved but certainly perhaps just a little attached. He tries not to dwell too much on these feelings, shoving them from his mind and quickly distracting himself as soon as they arise, but he is aware of their growing inside him. Of course, it would be impossible not to form some sort of attachment to her; his life is now dedicated to serving her and she is far from the cruel mistress she could have been. He spends so much time around her – really, apart from his trips to the kitchens (where nobody really talks to him anyway save the young slave girl he has befriended there) River is the only person with whom he has any sort of real contact with, so of course he misses her greatly while she is gone.

Short-tempered and unpredictable though she may be, he’d always been fascinated by her incredible intelligence (and astounding beauty) and now, since she’d first let him touch her three days ago, well…

That’s a thought path he certainly better never stray too far along at all.

He thinks instead a lot about the line she had let slip just before they’d – er – moved on to other forms of communication the night before she went away. “ _When I was a child, there were some people who realised that I was… above average. And they –“_ And there she’d cut herself off, sharply, and changed the subject before he could question, making it plain she hadn’t meant to speak of it. What had she meant? What people? What had they done with her? And why was it something she didn’t want to speak of?

He ponders his chances of getting an answer should he pluck up the courage to directly ask her some time, but quickly discards that idea as terrible and possibly dangerous. Perhaps instead he might be able to get it out of her by wheedling his way round the subject cleverly enough; she’d spoken about it by mistake already, maybe she just needed a little more time to become more relaxed in his presence and he might be able to get her to slip something out. Already he could tell those stone cold walls she had up around her were warming a little to him, which was something he felt immeasurably chuffed about.

It drags out into a very long four days alone in the empress’s too-quiet chambers. The Doctor gets a lot of his own personal work done which he is pleased about, but he counts down the days and hours until she returns ardently – and does a very bad job of not worrying that she may never do so.   

But return she does, and he cannot deny the relief that floods through him when from the window of her chambers, he sees her ride through the palace gates at the head of her army.

It feels like it takes her forever to get back to her chambers – he’s sure she has things to see to, but she must need to change and rest and the Doctor can only pace impatiently as he waits for her to come through those doors wondering why his palms are sweating and his heart is racing so much. He just – glad she’s _alive_. He’s relieved, and alright – he’s missed her a lot.

When finally they do burst open, accompanied by the sound of River impatiently shooing her advisors away with a snapped, “I’ve had about four hours sleep in the last four days, I’ll see to it _later!_ ” The Doctor takes one look at his mistress and the grin falls from his face.

Standing in the middle of her chambers as she closes the door, slumping heavily back against it, he gasps in a sharp breath at the sight of her. His eyes wide, he stares at her, clothes and armour filthy, curls a matted mess around her dirty face… and almost every inch of her covered with blood.

“M – mistress,” he bows hastily, hurrying over to her to help with her cloak and armour as she begins tiredly attempting to shed it. “Are – you’re…” he swallows, watching as she pulls a face unclipping her breastplate, grunting a little. “Gods above – you’re hurt!”

Letting the heavy piece of metal clatter to the floor, she finally glances up at him, and a small smile graces her lips. “I’m fine,” she says, “Tired and a bit achy, is all.” She grins, showing her teeth. “Worth every minute of it.”

“But –“ his eyes rake her form worriedly. “Gods– you’re – there’s blood – you’re covered in it! You’re covered in blood!” He says, panic in his voice as he frantically searches her body for wounds, trembling hands skating lightly over her form.

Rolling her eyes, River bats him off. “It’s not _mine_ sweetie, honestly. How incompetent do you think I am?”

He freezes at her words, wide eyes flickering to hers, and then back over her form.

There is blood everywhere – splattered over her face, her arms – her once cream tunic is now a dirty red-brown – even her curls have dried blood clinging to them. He gulps hard, mouth going dry as the implication of what this _means_ truly hits him. Of course – he knew she was going into battle – to fight, and he knew war was about killing he just… he hadn’t _thought_ about that. He’d been so busy worrying about her that what her going off to war meant hadn’t truly sunk in until just now, staring at her stood here in front of him, soaked in the blood of other men. Men she’d murdered. River Song was a killer.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She frowns at him. “Help me out of this damn stuff and get me a bath. I feel like I want to bathe for a day then sleep for a week.”

Dragging air into his lungs, he nods hurriedly, averting his eyes. “Yes, mistress,” he mumbles quietly.

He doesn’t even think of the fact that he’s stripping her of her clothes as he does so, doesn’t find his eyes wanting to stray hungrily over her bare body at all; all he can see is dirt and blood and he wraps her in a warm robe and hurries to fetch her a bath.

She is too tired to bathe herself, and the Doctor feels sick to his stomach as he scrubs blood from her skin and watches the bathwater turn red. It takes three tubfuls to get her clean, and only then can he look her in the face again.

She rises from the tub and wraps the towel he hands her round herself, padding quietly to her bedchamber and leaving him to empty the last tub of water.

The Doctor picks her armour and boots up from the floor when he is done, piling it onto the table to be cleaned later, and eyeing the blood-soaked clothing with disdain before deciding it probably just wants throwing away. He pushes it under the table with his foot, nose wrinkled, making a mental note to check with River tomorrow.

Expecting to find her asleep, he moves quietly into her bedchamber to make sure she’d managed to make her way under her blankets before passing out, but startles, stopping short in the doorway at the sight of her reclined back against her pillows, still wrapped in her towel, and looking at him with a tired smile on her lips.

“M – mistress,” he stammers uncertainly, clearing his throat. “I thought you were exhausted, why are you still awake?”

“Waiting for you.” She says softly. “Come,” she holds out a hand. “Lie with me.”

His eyes widening, he hesitates. “I - I thought you were tired, ma’am?”

“Exhausted. But the adrenalin always makes me…” she licks her eyes, dark eyes raking over his form, “restless. I won’t sleep. Yet.” She smirks at him, a gleam in her eyes, and when she motions again with the hand held out towards him, he swallows hard and makes his way over to her bed on legs that feel suddenly a lot wobblier than they did just a minute ago.

He clambers up next to her uncertainly, and lets out a squeak of surprise when River seizes him by the sides of his face and hauls him to her, kissing him fiercely. He flails for a moment with the shock, before forcing himself to try and relax, and moving his hands to rest hesitantly on her waist. River’s own hands roam impatiently over his form, yanking at his clothing, and he tries not to think about those same hands being the cause of so much bloodshed.

“Touch me,” she gasps against his mouth between furious kisses, the two breathless syllables sounding almost more like a plea than a demand. With her tongue swooping the inside of his mouth (this kissing thing was still all rather a bit unnerving and he thought it best just to let her take the lead until he found his feet), the Doctor obediently slides shaky hands up the empress’s sides, thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts as he feels a distinctive, familiar stirring in his lower regions.

“You –you shouldn’t have sat so long in this wet towel, highness,” the Doctor manages to fumble out as River’s mouth moves over his jaw, nipping and biting, so hard at one point he gasps, suspecting she may have broken the skin. “I, I – you – you’ll catch a chill…”

“Yess,” River hisses, moving down his neck as her nails drag through his hair, other hand worming it’s way beneath his short toga. “Take it off.”

He manages to untuck it as her hands never stop roaming and gets it open leaving her once more bare before him. The Doctor squeezes his eyes shut tightly against the blood rushing through his body, hands skimming softly, hesitantly down her back and around to cup her ribcage, unable to help himself from pulling her a bit closer.

She jumps against him suddenly, and her brow is furrowed in a wince when he pulls back in alarm to look down into her face.

“Mistress –“

“I’m fine,” she mutters quickly, yanking him to her again before he can protest further and wiping all thought from his mind with another of those knee-weakening kisses.

The empress’s hot mouth now pressed to his collarbone, teeth scraping (he was going to have _marks_ for days she was being so vicious) she gets her hand under his clothes where it crawls up his thigh until she wraps her small soft hand round his cock, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. She strokes him quickly a few times, and he thinks suddenly of that same hand wrapped round the hilt of a sword, grip tight and unrelenting, bringing savage agony and suffering instead of pleasure…

“I’m sorry!” He pulls away from her with a gasp, scrambling backwards until there is space between them and looking at her with wide eyes as the empress stares at him, stunned and confused, green eyes still wild and limbs askew.

He swallows hard and shoves a trembling hand through his hair. “I uh – I – I’m – I don’t think you should be – be doing this,” he fumbles for an excuse for his behaviour. “I – you’re exhausted, and you’re hurt too –"

“I’m fine,” she frowns at him, breathing hard.

“You’re not,” he shakes his head, “You’ve hurt yourself – I felt you flinch – and you struggled to get your armour off - you, you should be resting, I don’t want to –"

“Stay right there!” She snaps furiously as he makes to scramble off the bed. The Doctor freezes. “Did I give you permission to leave?”

“…N – no ma’am. I just –"

“You forget your damn place,” she fumes, “You are my _slave_ , and you have two seconds to get back over here before I have you flogged!”

Heart pounding, he stumbles back over to her, and opens his mouth to speak again but River fists a hand in the front of his toga before he can and hauls him into her again to kiss him, her mouth fierce and bruising against his. She pulls back, but not before biting at his bottom lip hard enough to make him yelp. Her cold green eyes locked onto his, she shoves him back against the pillow and straddles him before he can blink, grinding down against him and making him gasp as her strong hands pin his wrists down by his hips, making it plain that she would do what she willed with him and he did not have a say in the matter.

“I – I’m sorry mistress,” he stammers out through another gasp, a little terrified of her anger when she has him pinned beneath her like this.

She is… different today. He is more than familiar with her temper but this is different, there’s something… something wild in her eyes. Dark. He thinks of the blood-soaked clothing and feels frightened of her, as if should he make one too many wrong moves she may not hesitate to simply kill him. That’s what the look in her eyes threatens, and he thinks of those men out on the battlefield, how those dark, cold green eyes would be the last sight they saw; how this image meant death. He draws in a shaky breath.

“I was just concerned for your wellbeing, ma’am, is all,” he gushes quickly as River rolls her hips over him again, a noise leaving her lips, eyes fluttering in pleasure. She pauses, looks into his wide eyes, then shrugs, visibly relaxing. “I’m fine. Just a pulled muscle probably.” Her quick little hands yank his toga up out of the way again. “You can rub it better for me tomorrow,” she smirks, before taking him in hand and sinking down onto his aching cock.

He squeezes his eyes shut against the sensations that rip through his being; this is all still so _new_ , and no matter the repulsion he feels at the thought of the blood on this woman’s hands, the feel of River Song warm and wet and clenching around him sends red hot pleasure shooting through his veins, curling up his spine and tingling right down to the tips of his toes.

River rises and falls over him, her pace fast and breath-taking, palms planted on his chest and thighs tense and strong astride him. Mouth agape, he looks up into her face through a haze of sensations and when he sees her brow furrowed deeply and mouth open as she gasps and moans he thinks he swells even further inside her.

Grabbing his arms, River hauls him up suddenly so that he is sitting, their torsos pressed together, and she shifts to wrap her legs round behind his back and – _oh_ – the new position makes him slide so much deeper inside her on each of her downwards bounces. River throws her head back, mouth open as she lets out a cry of pleasure, the new angle clearly affecting her as much as him.

She bites at him savagely, nails clawing down his back and although a part of him recoils at the fact that she is wound up from her bloody victory, he cannot help but let out a low groan and clutch her to him, dropping his head to her shoulder to breath in the delicious scent of her.

He didn’t want to do this today – not after spending an hour scrubbing blood from her body but – gods above she is _glorious_ like this – alive and _powerful_ and… and he is ashamed for the thought to even enter his head but – knowing how dangerous she is slightly adds to the thrill. Just a tiny bit. He is a little half afraid of her tonight and gods – it turns him on.

The Doctor squeezes his eyes shut, body tense and fingers tight on her hips as he tries to focus on not letting the great stormy waves of pleasure drag him straight under like they are threatening to. She’d been tolerant last time, a little amused even at his inexperience, but something tells him this unhinged, lethal woman he has astride him tonight wouldn’t take so kindly to this being over before she’s found her satisfaction.

His body trembles, a noise leaving his lips as he tries to hold out, and River bites down hard on his shoulder, nails digging into the base of his spine as she moves faster: a warning. Desperately, the Doctor wriggles a hand between their bodies to where they are joined, trembling fingers sliding over impossibly slick flesh, frantically searching for that little magic spot. Her hips jerk, a shriek leaving her lips that tells him he’s found it, and he presses up there with his fingertips, rubbing her until she is bouncing so hard on top of him, seeking more, more that he thinks he may die, and oh _please, please River, come on, please, I can’t hold out, please I need you to –_

His frantic thoughts dissolve as pleasure crashes over him, his climax gripping him tightly in its powerful jaws, and he has only the sense of mind to just about register that River is screaming above him, her whole body shuddering against his as she clenches hard around his cock and it gives him the relief he needs to let the rest of his climax spill from within with a strangled gasp.

He clutches her as they come down from their high together, sweat-slicked bodies quivering lightly, hearts beating in a furious rhythm against each other’s chests.

Detangling herself from him groggily, River lifts herself off him, the Doctor collapsing down onto his back the moment she lets go of him.  

“Ah,” she sighs, rolling to flop onto her back next to him with a satisfied hum.

 “Gods, I needed you out in my camp.” The Doctor’s heart soars, and he turns his head in astonishment to beam at her – “…Romulus just doesn’t compare.”

The grin vanishes from his face, and his chest constricts sharply. “Wha – _Romulus??_ Your - your general?”

Unaware of his emotional turmoil next to her, River ‘mm’s in confirmation. “He’s never my first choice of lover but like I said, fighting… winds me up.” She lets out a sleepy sigh. “Needs must.”

Heart clenching, the Doctor lies next to her and tries to remember to breathe. He turns from her, chest aching.

Of course – _of course_ she wasn’t going to stop sleeping with other men just because she’d had him – is that what he’d really thought? He was her _slave_.

He hadn’t thought about it at all – the matter simply hadn’t occurred to him, and therefore he’d had no idea the knowledge that he was certainly not going to be the only man in her bed now she’d had him would affect him this way.

He hears River’s breathing begin to even out behind him and turns his head to see the empress’s eyes closed. Quietly, he gets to his feet, throwing his toga quickly back on and leaning over to nudge at his mistress gently.

“You’ll catch a chill,” he says as he pulls the sheets from beneath her, and she nods sleepily and lets him manoeuvre her beneath them, tucking them up around her bare form. “I’ll leave you to sleep ma’am,” he murmurs softly, and River is already out cold as he tiptoes from the room.

\--

The empress sleeps the rest of the day and well into the night, finally waking the Doctor at dawn when she nudges him with her foot where he is curled up in his blankets out in her chambers, and demands he fetch her something to eat.

Having only fallen asleep a short while before, staying awake tossing and turning uncomfortably for hours in his pile of blankets, the Doctor feels like death as he drags himself up and traipses through the quiet palace to the kitchens.

After feeding and dressing her, River disappears before the sun has finished rising, and he doesn’t see her again until that evening; he is sure she has a lot to catch up after being away for four days, not to mention the recuperation of her army to see to. He gets to catch up on some sleep, at least, and even still manages to have her armour cleaned and put away by the time she gets back.

She invites him to eat with her that night, and he is stunned until she rolls out a scroll as they are munching on a venison steak at her table together, informing him that it was a list of their losses from the battle, and she wanted him to help her work out how long it would take to get it back up to par. While hundreds of her men lie wounded in her temples (not to mention the ones killed) and the blood is still wet on her hands, all River can think of is her next conquest.  

It doesn’t take long to work out together, and they are done by the time their meal is finished, at which point the Doctor rises from the table to take their plates to the kitchens.

“Wait,” she says, rising from the table. “Sit,” she waves him back down when he quickly shoots to his own feet as she crosses the room to the shelves in the corner. “I want to show you something.”

He watches as she takes a key from a little pot nestled between two books, and moves over to the locked cabinet in the other corner, kneeling to open it, from where she pulls out a box, and something else – a spherical shape on a little axis. She makes her way over to the table and sets the two things down carefully, opening the box.

“I told you before I’d had theories similar to yours – that I was very interested in the things you study…” he nods, watching wordless as she pulls out pieces of parchment and sets them down, leafing through pages of her neat handwriting.

“This is some of my work. This –“ she flicks the sphere with a delicate finger, and the Doctor watches as it spins merrily on its little axis. “It’s a model I made, it’s… the world. It’s not complete – and probably not perfectly accurate but it’s as much as I know. It’s… a work in progress.”

The Doctor stares at it in wonder. He clears his throat, licking dry lips as he reaches out a hand towards it. He hesitates. “May I?” He asks reverently.

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, River nods.

He spins the globe slowly, running gentle fingertips over it in awe as he reads all of River’s tiny neat scrawls. There’s gaps, and many question marks over it, but still it’s, it’s…

“It’s incredible.”

When he glances up at her, still in astonishment, River smiles – and he thinks she looks almost… shy? It’s an expression he never expected to see on the empress’s face, and for a moment he wonders how this calm, soft, brilliant-minded woman is the same person as the cold-hearted killer determined to see all of Rome fall at her feet.

“It’s not complete,” she says.

“No but it’s… it’s still _amazing_ …” he twirls it again. “I had one just like it back home, you know?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “You made one too?”

Still studying it delightedly, the Doctor nods. “I did. It wasn’t nearly as detailed as yours – you know far more about geography than I do.”

She shrugs, smiling. “Need to know what I want to conquer, don’t I?”

He glances up at her, hand pausing on the globe. “All of it?”

River nods, eyes steady. “Yes.”

He swallows, and clears his throat, forcing that rattling thought from his mind. “Everyone who saw mine laughed.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why do you think I keep this locked away in a cabinet? I’d be ridiculed. They’d think their empress had lost their mind. A round world?”

The Doctor glances up at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you think we’re the only two who exist to believe it?”

“Believe it?” She snorts. “I _know_ it. It was a theory at first but I’ve studied it enough.” Her finger reaches out and spins the globe again. “The turning of it is day and night as it faces the sun, then away.”

The Doctor nods, grinning. “And as it orbits the sun it gives us the different seasons.”

She looks up at him in delight. “You think so too? I – I’d had the theory but I wasn’t certain whether it was the earth actually moving or the sun itself…”

“I don’t think the sun moves,” the Doctor shakes his head, grabbing an orange from her fruit bowl and setting it on the table, picking up the little globe to move it around. “It’s static. We revolve around it.”

Biting her lip, River nods, reaching out to spin her globe. “But there’s something I couldn’t work out – this part here,” she taps a blank spot on her globe, “They would spend half the year in darkness – they must – here, there’s no time on its rotation it could face the sun. And this part – this must spend the same time in constant light.”

Nodding slowly, the Doctor shrugs. “I suppose that’s possible.”

River frowns. “How awful. Do you think anyone inhabits this part?”

“I don’t know.”

She thinks for a moment, before shrugging, and flashing him a grin. “I’ll find out for myself one day.”

He falls quiet, leaning in close to peer at the tiny handwriting labelling parts of the world River knows. Rome is perfectly mapped – she’s gone so far as to draw lines splitting it up all labelled with numerals he assumes are its provinces.

“Do you mind if I – can I study this?” He asks eagerly, eyes still bright as he examines it excitedly.

River shrugs. “You saw where I keep the key.”

He beams up at her. “Thank you.”

Another shrug, and she rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve a late meeting with my chancellors. I’ll back in a couple of hours.”

He nods, distracted still by her fascinating work as she walks off. “Uh – mistress!” He stops her before she gets to the door, and beams widely at her when she turns back to glance at him with a raised eyebrow. He licks his lips, scratching at the back of his head.

“You’re _brilliant.”_

She breaks into a smile, and throws him a wink. “I know.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all wonderful for the lovely comments so far, and I would really appreciate your feedback on this one because - well it's sort of taken a little turn. I just love to know your thoughts, it makes writing this 93458945x better ^^ <3


	8. Chapter 8

 

Lying facing the empress, the Doctor tries to catch his breath, heart hammering and a deliciously warm feeling of utter satisfaction humming through his body. He’d liked it this way; both of them facing each other on their sides, River’s leg hitched over his hip. She’d shown him how to move with an urging hand on his backside, nails digging just lightly into his skin with her own hips rocking in time and voice low and murmuring by his ear. It was everything their intimacy the night before had not been; River was gentle where she’d been rough, calm where she’d been wild and unhinged.

Holding her close as their breathing evens out, the Doctor lets a hand still trembling glide down over her side to rest in the dip of her waist, finally properly _looking_ at her since she’d got back from the battle. “There’s not a scratch on you,” he breathes in disbelief.

River smiles, quirking an eyebrow. “Told you it was the other side that needed the protecting,” she quips.

Feeling that uneasiness from the previous night bubble to the surface again, he swallows.

 He doesn’t want to know, he knows that – he needs to just let it go, go to sleep and stop thinking about it.

But he just has to ask.

“How…” he licks his lips and swallows. “How many men did you kill?”

River raises an eyebrow at the question. “Recently, or ever?”

Frowning, eyes avoiding hers, he mutters, “At the battle.”

She shrugs. “I lost count.”

He can hear the smirk in her voice, and snaps his eyes up to hers in dismay.

She stares him down, eyes alarmingly cold and steady, until the Doctor looks away again, rolling from her and sitting up.

“I… I need to clear away your dinner plates, your highness,” he excuses himself quietly, throwing his toga over his head and getting to his feet. Her hears a huff from the bed, but River does not protest as he leaves the room.

\--

Over the next few weeks the Doctor falls back into his routine of serving the empress  – with a couple of obvious… _adjustments_.

He rises before her, fetches her breakfast from the kitchen and has it on the table when she wanders sleepily from her bedchamber. She rambles off her agenda for the day while she eats, and the Doctor makes mental notes of what points she will be back so he can see to her accordingly, and afterwards he helps her wash and dress before wishing her a good day. Sometimes she gives him tasks to do while she is out, but mostly he is left to continue his own work.

He fetches her meals if she returns for them, and after dinner when she isn’t out she mostly sits quietly at the table, pouring over maps, charts and figures for a few hours. Sometimes she asks for his help, if not he’s left to continue his own work, usually having to remind her when the hour gets late that she should get some rest.

This is where it mostly differs; instead of dressing her for bed and leaving her to sleep, most nights the Doctor finds himself catering for his mistress’s _other_ needs – and this part he has to admit, he finds himself liking best of all. Sometimes she would drag him with her and have her way with him quick and roughly, other times she’d beckon with a crooked finger and a red-lipped smile and he would spend hours between her sheets memorising every inch of her body and learning how to pleasure her. She’d even let him bathe with her once, snagging his arm as he leant over her for the sponge and hauling so quickly he’d toppled right down into the small round tub fully clothed with a tremendous splash while River threw back her head and laughed. He’d been a bit disgruntled-  _he_ was the one who was going to have to mop up the mess she’d caused after all but his grumbling had only amused the empress further. He had to admit though, washing her hair with her nestled between his legs in the warm water, wet naked skin all pressed to his was much better than performing the same task knelt on the hard floor behind the tub.

The nights he lays with her, River never pushes him out of her bed afterwards, and so the Doctor doesn’t leave. Although she would sometimes roll away from him and fall asleep with her back to him and space between them, there were other times when she would curl round him contentedly, her soft limbs entwining with his and breath warm on his skin. Before, he’d never have imagined that the cold-hearted empress of Rome could be so serene.

On these nights, he lies there awake after she falls asleep, fingers absently stroking her soft warm skin gently and he wonders – is it because it’s _him_  or because he’s convenient? Deep down inside, she clearly craves closeness – adoration – although she would certainly never admit to it – and he’s probably the only one she can drop her guard around; he’s just a slave. He’s not going to tell anyone of what transpires between them – he would have nobody to tell, and nobody would listen to or believe a slave anyway.

He holds her during those nights and wonders whatever happened in her past to make her so guarded.

During his free time, the Doctor finds himself spending several full days studying River’s model of the world and her notes, finding himself further astounded by her knowledge and intelligence. But there is one wooden box that remains in the cabinet that he is burningly curious about, and it takes him almost three full weeks to pluck up the courage to ask her about it.

“Mistress?” He shuffles on his feet behind her.

“Mm?” She says, without glancing up from the parchment she is jotting down figures on.

“I was wondering, erm… the cabinet – where you keep your things…”

“What about it?” She says, still not pausing in her work.

“What’s erm… there’s a box. Another one in there. Er… what’s in it?”

She pauses to glace up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t you look?”

His eyes widening, he shakes his head quickly. “It’s locked.”

“The key is on the same ring as the other.”

“I um… I didn’t like it try. I mean – it’s locked. I thought you might not want me to…”

Rolling her eyes, River cuts him off by getting up from the table and crossing the room to retrieve her key and move to open the cabinet. She takes the box out and sets it on top, where she uses the smaller key on the ring to unlock it. Taking the object inside of it out, she pauses, before turning and handing it carefully to the Doctor.

Blinking, he takes it from her, peering confusedly at the small clay sphere in his hands. Glancing up at her, but finding her offering no clues, simply watching him with raised eyebrows, he looks back down, turning the object over in his hands. It’s hollow – and split into two parts which slot together neatly, and the bottom of it is flat. There’s wax inside at the bottom, and he realises after a few moments of studying it that in actual fact what he thought at first glance was a pattern is tiny holes pricked carefully into it all over, and little lines and letters scratched in that link them. He blinks, looking closer, eyes narrowed as he turns it over and over in his hands, peering carefully at all the little holes and marks all over it…

He looks up at River in amazement. “It’s a chart!” He beams.

She smiles. “Yes.”

“Designed to be lit with a candle in a darkened room to project onto the ceiling, am I right?” he questions excitedly.

She nods.

“It’s – it’s the sky, isn’t it – the night sky?”

Wordlessly, she takes it from him, retrieving another little item from the box which he recognises as a small candle and popping it inside, taking the two things over to the table in the middle of her chambers to set them down before glancing round and reconsidering. “Er – it works better in my bedchamber, this room is too large… come, bring a light.”

Sticking a lighting stick in the torch by the door, the Doctor follows her through to her bedroom, sitting down on the floor with her where she sets it between them and motions for him to light it. He does so, then moves at her direction to close the door and extinguish the main torch as she carefully places the lid on.

The Doctor gasps as the room suddenly becomes full of stars, moving back over to sit down mutely, mouth open as he stares.

He’s studied the stars himself – and charted them, and this chart River has made is… it’s perfectly, astoundingly accurate.

“It’s beautiful,” he says quietly in awe.

The empress leans back on her hands, gazing up. “Mmm, it is rather pretty is it not?”

“It’s _perfect,”_ he breathes.

She nods. “It’s as close to exact as can be. It took me years. I’ve charted the stars since I was a little girl. I’ve always been determined to make this one perfect chart of every star one can ever see.”

He looks over at her, and for a brief moment looses his breath at the sight of her illuminated faintly in the dark room, some of the tiny little lights from the edges of her chart scattered across her, twinkling with the flickering of the candle. She looks magical; amongst the stars. He clears his throat quickly and remembers his question.

“For navigation?” He asks, assuming this fits in with her ambitious plans.

Without looking at him, she shakes her head. “I don’t take this anywhere.”

He tilts his head at her curiously in the dark. “Why then?”

She glances at him. “You’ll laugh.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes amusedly. “I know better than to laugh at _you,_ highness – I don’t have a death wish.”

“Point taken,” she smirks.

“So,” he nudges. “If not for navigation why did you make it?”

Letting out a sigh, the empress lets herself lie back on her floor, gazing up at the twinkling lights on the ceiling and lies quietly there for several moments.

“Mistress?” He presses softly.

“The stars just… they fascinate me, always have. I think… there’s more up there.”

“More?”

“More of… _this_. Other worlds.” She tilts her head to look over at him from the floor. “Do you think that’s mad?”

He looks at her carefully, face open and honest, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

She watches him for a moment before a slow smile comes to her lips. “You think so too, don’t you?”

A smile tugging at his own lips, the Doctor glances away, gazing back up at the lights above their heads. He shrugs a shoulder.

River lets out a small laugh, flopping back down. “I should have known.”

A quiet stretches out between them as they both gaze up at the stars above them, a peaceful stillness settling the Doctor is unwilling to break. River is the one to finally do so, by sitting up and saying something quietly that utterly astonishes him.

“Doctor?”

His heart skips a beat at the sound of his name falling from her lips – the only other times she’d _ever_ spoken it was in mocking – she had never ever addressed him as anything but ‘slave’ before now -  he only just manages to stammer out a stunned, “Yes?”

She licks her lips, and tucks a curl behind her ear. “I don’t feel so alone with you here.”

Dumbfounded by her quiet admittance, the Doctor stares at her, heart pounding and… _some sort_ of emotion welling inside him. He can’t think to figure out what it is but – it makes him happy.

“Me either,” he tells her softly.

On an emotion-driven whim, he reaches over to take her hand, but River turns away immediately, clearing her throat and getting quickly to her feet, brushing off her dress.

“Um – I think I’d like to take a bath. Fetch the water please,” she says, bending to scoop up her chart, and extinguishing the candle inside as she moves hurriedly from her bedchamber.

The Doctor lets his head drop to his chest, letting out a heavy breath, mentally kicking himself for spooking her straight back into empress mode.

Still, he didn’t miss the please she’d added onto the end of her command, and that keeps him smiling all the way to the baths.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise that this one is so short, but promise the next shouldn't take too long and I'll try and make it a bit longer than these last two. :)

The empress lies sprawled out on her bed, legs askew with the Doctor settled on his stomach between them, as naked as she. He traces a finger delicately up over her folds; having already pleasured her well twice over they are relaxing, and the touch is more curious than sexual. He flicks a thumb over her clit and smiles as she squirms.

“This… this spot here,” he says, he’s come to think of it as her magic button, but luckily manages to stop himself before he calls it that out loud. “Is it the same for all women? That it’s where you feel the most pleasure?”

Smiling softly as her fingers comb idly though his hair, River shifts sleepily before she answers. “It’s not the only place, sweetie. There’s a spot inside that feels just as good.”

He glances up at her, eyebrows shooting upwards. “Really?”

She chuckles. “Surely you’ve noticed how it affects me when you hit it right.”

He scrunches up his brow in thought. “That’s usually just before you… _you know_ …”

“Climax?” She says helpfully with an amused smile.

He coughs. “Yes. I’d thought you were just… _you know_ ,” River chuckles, “Getting – er – closer. To – _climax_.” He forces the word out, cheeks going pink and River appears further amused.

“I am,” she laughs. “It usually _causes_ the orgasm.”

“Oh.” Brow furrowing, he looks down at her again. “I thought it was just… the general sensation. Of – you know – something inside… I didn’t realise there was a specific spot.” He ponders on this new information. Really, he’s going to have to write all this down; he’d never dreamed how fascinating a woman’s body could be – he supposes he’d never given it much thought before River, determined that he was too intent on his studies and research to find – _those_ – sorts of things interesting. He’d almost, slightly arrogantly thought himself above carnal pleasures. Oh, he'd had no idea what he’d been missing.

“So you need both spots stimulated?” He asks, “To climax?” There, he didn’t even falter that time.

“No. One or the other really - it takes a little more work to come from penetration alone but I can. But both is best,” she grins down at him and the Doctor rests his chin on his free arm, tracing a thumb round the outside of her pretty pink sex.

“Is that the same then? For all women?”

She shifts, looking amused. “All the women I’ve slept with it is.”

He falters at that, skipping a breath, hand stilling, and when he jerks his wide eyes up to hers he finds her smirking down at him. Closing his mouth, he clears his throat and shifts on his stomach, returning his attention to his area of study and choosing not to comment on that particular piece of information.

“So, er… this is part here,” he traces his middle finger down from her clit to her entrance and feels her shiver lightly. “What does that feel like?”

“Frustrating,” she smirks.

He throws her a grin and trails his finger back up, lifting his other hand and using both thumbs to gently part her, exposing her clit more fully to his eyes. He licks his lips, studying it intently, and the empress shifts restlessly.

“I wonder why there’s two separate spots,” he murmurs.

“It’s the same spot,” she replies softly. “At least – that’s what I think. It runs through from the outside to in. It’s two ends of the same thing.”

He glances up at her, eyebrows raised in interest before looking back down, pressing one thumb lightly against her clit and watching her hips jump a little. “That’s _fascinating.”_

The empress lets out a low chuckle. “Would you like me to get you some parchment so you can write all this down?” She teases. “Perhaps draw a diagram while you’re at it.”

He grins, and doesn’t tell her that he’d been seriously considering doing just that.

Falling quiet, he slides his thumbs down through her folds, and uses them to gently pull against either side of her opening, marvelling at how here she can stretch so much – that her body can change shape to allow a part of his to fit inside. It’s amazing.

“It’s just sex,” she says, and he realises he’d been muttering aloud.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s _amazing._ You’re amazing.”

She snorts at that. “All women can do it honey,” she teases mockingly.

He presses his thumbs against her more, and her sex twitches, arousal seeping from her as she lets out a small groan.

“That’s amazing too,” he observes, gathering the wetness on his thumbs and spreading it, circling around her entrance and up over her folds again. “I love how you smell – rich and earthy. Perfect,” he says as he breathes in her scent and when he glances up he notices the empress’s breathing has increased and her eyes have darkened.

He smirks. “I love that look you get as well,” he says, shifting to crawl up over her body carefully, one thumb still stroking though her folds. “Aroused you are the most beautiful you can be…”

River gazes up at him, lips parting slightly before she appears to give herself a little shake, and thrusting a hand into his hair, yanks his head down to hers for a furious kiss as she shifts restlessly beneath him.  

He hopes it might be one of the rare times she lets him be on top – he likes controlling their pace, and he thinks he’s getting better at it, learning which way to twist his hips and how hard and fast to cause her to make that delightful little noise at the end of each thrust.

But River apparently has other ideas, pushing him away and giving him the most loaded smirk he’d ever seen grace a woman’s face. He sits back on his heels and watches enraptured as, instead of pushing him down, the empress turns over, getting up onto her hands and knees in front of him and throwing him a glance over her shoulder that makes his insides turn to jelly.

He stares, frozen for a moment and achingly hard, and then River leans down on her elbows and spreads her knees. “Like this,” she breathes, arching her back, and choking a little, the Doctor lurches forward, kneeling up and placing hands that have started to tremble furiously in arousal and anticipation (how does she _do_ this to him every time?) on her hips. River rocks back, her slick hot sex sliding over his cock and he groans, hips bucking involuntarily.

He stares down at her, heart pounding, taking in the pretty curve of her spine and curls tumbling down over her shoulders, muscles tensed and he wonders – not the first time – how he ever got so lucky. How does _he_ get to hold and touch and pleasure this beautiful woman?

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she warns, voice strained with frustration, and the Doctor grins, lifting a hand from her hip to wrap round his cock, shifting his hips so he can guide it to her dripping core. She hums, tilting her hips up further, and with one smooth thrust, he slides inside the welcoming heat of her body.

“This okay?” He checks, voice low as he thrusts steadily into her, hands on her hips and oh – he likes this position, he can get so deep inside her and she is so open and yielding in front of him.

“Mmmm,” she moans, head dropping. “Oh yeah, that’s good. You’re getting –“ she gasps on another thrust, “So good…”

Smirking in delight at her praise, and determined to show how just how good he is, the Doctor slides a hand from her hip round her thigh and lets his long fingers dip between her legs, finding her clit easily at this angle, engorged and slick beneath his fingertips. River’s hips buck as he circles it with the pad of his middle finger.

“Oh – gods!” She shouts, body jerking. “I’m not going to last – very long – like this…”

Groaning as his hips increase their rhythm, the feel  of her hot and wet and clenching around him making everything tighten low in his body, the Doctor drops his head, brow furrowed. “Me either,” he pants.

“Don’t you dare,” River warns, voice breathless, and the Doctor squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure building inside him. He’d come before she’d finished one time other than that first, and discovered that the empress really hadn’t liked it… he certainly had no desire to repeat his mistake after that incident; he could still feel the sting on his cheek when he recalled it - and had come to greatly appreciate the benefits of foreplay, and made sure to pay attention to learning exactly how to work her body to give her the most pleasure the quickest. He thinks he’s really becoming quite good at it.

Thrusting shallower but harder, the Doctor increases the pressure against her clit and River moans, hands clenching in the sheets beneath her. Another thrust and press of his fingers and she comes suddenly, before he’d even expected it, muffling a shout in her pillows as her inner walls clench and spasm around his cock and he gasps, throwing his head back and thrusting quicker into the her quivering body. He doesn’t pause to let her recover, and River is moaning as he feels himself fast approaching his own orgasm, letting out high pitched cries with each thrust and gods above – she is so beautiful like this, every twitch and shudder and roll of her body is heaven, every sound that leaves her lips is music to his ears. His trembling fingers slip over her clit as he tries to keep up his rhythm, finding her so wet she drips down onto his hand and he moans aloud, babbling incoherently about how perfect and beautiful she is as he feels himself get closer to his climax.

Without fully coming down from her first orgasm, he feels River reach climax again, hips rocking back desperately onto him and pushing down into his hand as she moans and sobs into her pillows.

His hand grips hip desperately as he feels his body tighten, hips beginning to jerk, pressure building and everything is _her_ and she is perfect and he just wants to, to-

“Can I – your name – please, let me…” He begs desperately, and after a pause, the empress nods her head hurriedly.

“ _River_ ,” he groans, dropping his face into her curls as his hips jerk and he spills himself deep inside her. He doesn’t even realise he is murmuring it deliriously over and over until the fog of euphoria has cleared and he finds himself breathing her name into her skin, mouth half full of her hair. Lifting a trembling hand, he pushes her curls aside so he can press a lingering, open mouthed kiss to her neck, groaning in utter contentment, until River shifts, making a noise of restlessness, and he quickly moves to pull out of her.

She lays down on her stomach, ribcage heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and the Doctor silently moves to one side of her, collapsing onto his side and stretching out, aligning the length of his body with hers and placing a hand on her sweat dampened back.

“I liked it that way,” he tells her softly, thumb stroking her skin, and with her face turned away, River makes a noise of agreement.

She feels tense beneath his palm, and grows tenser as they lay quietly catching her breath. Brow furrowing, he smooths his hand over her back, and opens his mouth to ask if everything is okay when she speaks before he can, voice lowered.

“Don’t ever use my name again.”

His hand freezes, stomach dropping at her cold tone. “But – I –“

“You’re my slave.  And I’m your mistress, and you have no damn _right_ to address me by name.”

“I – I’m sorry,” he stammers, a bit stunned. “I – I asked and you –“

“I was halfway through a fucking orgasm, I didn’t know _what_ I was doing,” she snaps, voice so cold and biting it makes him take a sharp inhalation of breath.

“I -,” he says, upset, heart pounding, “Mistress, I –“

“Leave me.”

Sitting up and removing his hand from her back, he stares at her, dismayed. “I’m sorry…”

She whips her head round, “ _Leave me!”_ She yells, furious green eyes shooting daggers at him, and the Doctor startles so badly he scrambles backwards and topples off the bed, hitting the floor with a painful thud. He hurries to scoop up his toga, and tears from the room hauling it over his head.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! <3 Xxx

 

Several hours after being banished from her bedchamber, well into the night, the Doctor is still wide awake when he hears a soft rustle and bare feet padding quietly over the marble floor. He turns in his bed, peering in the dark to see the empress standing a few feet away from him.

He sits  up, eyes wide in surprise as River glares at him. “Mistress?”

She purses her lips, arms folded tightly over her chest holding her robe together, and looks away. “I’m cold.” She says.

“Oh,” the Doctor makes to scramble to his feet. “I – I’ll get you another blanket –“

“No,” she cuts him off before he can make for her bedroom, and when he turns to look at her questionably, she lifts her eyes to his and scowls, shakes her head then turns and marches crossly off back to her bedchamber.

Blinking after her, he only stares for a moment, utterly confused. And then he wonders… was she asking…

Surely not, she had made it quite clear she wanted him nowhere near her tonight after he’d angered her so.

But then why…?

Deciding to brave it – he had nothing to lose because he certainly wasn’t getting any sleep here and he figured he couldn’t make her any crosser with him, the Doctor gets to his feet and pads across her chambers towards her bedroom.

She has got back into bed, and has her face turned away from him, though her eyes are open. He clears his throat softly so as not to startle her and moves over to the bed.

He places a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Mistress?” He whispers.

There is a pause then a huff, and River shuffles to the side, pulling back the cover wordlessly. She rolls over so her back is facing him as he climbs into bed behind her, but doesn’t protest when he tentatively wraps his arm round her waist and shuffles close to her, pulling her gently back into the warmth of his body.

She lets out a sigh, and the Doctor buries his face in her curls and breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely audible in the dark, and River doesn’t reply, but he feels her frame slowly relax in his arms.

\--

They don’t speak of the incident again, but two days later, her name slips unbidden from the Doctors lips when he comes with his mouth pressed against her neck.

He freezes, whole body going tense, when he realises what he’s said and he prepares himself for her anger but – amazingly, aside from faltering briefly, River does not react. She rises and falls over him, once, twice more, milking the last of his orgasm from his body with a content sounding little grunt of her own,  and rolls off him to lay quietly by his side, their panting breaths becoming the only sound in the room.

He turns his head to look at her questionably because – maybe she hadn’t heard?

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and “What?” she says, the challenge in her voice daring him to mention it and making it clear that in fact, she had.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor looks away, shaking his head quickly. “Nothing, ma’am.”

River turns over, rolling away from him, and after a longing look at her back, the Doctor sighs and pulls the covers up over them, settling down to sleep and resigning himself to never understanding the enigma of a woman.

\--

The next morning, the Doctor shifts, stirring as the bed moves next to him, and he blinks his eyes open blearily to see River getting to her feet. He stares a moment at her naked body, unable to help himself as he watches her pull a dress over her head, and then frowns as he realises it is still dark outside.

“Where are you going?” He asks, voice hoarse with sleep.

She glances back at him. “I’ve called a meeting with my chancellors and the generals at sunrise.”

“Oh.” He comments, laying back down.

River slips her feet into her sandals and makes her way over to sit in front of her vanity, pulling a comb through her hair.

She glances over at him in the mirror. “Well come on then, up.”

He sits up, blinking sleepily at her. “But - you’re already dressed…” He says, confused about what she could need him for.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, sweetie,” she says with that sweet mocking tone of hers he probably shouldn’t like so much, “But you’re not.”

The Doctor blinks, trying to understand what she is asking him to do.

Curls pinned up quickly with a clip, she gets to her feet and scoops his toga off the floor, flinging it at him.

“We need to be at the throne room in ten minutes; I suggest you get out of bed.”

\--

From that morning on, the Doctor finds himself accompanying River wherever she goes, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t delighted, both to be getting out and about so much, and to be spending all that time at River’s side.

His research begins to suffer, but strangely he finds that he hardly cares. His work had always been the centre of his life, but he is aware that that centre is fast changing – into something with curly hair, a short temper and a wicked giggle.

River still gives him the odd day off, pushing him down with a pile of books and papers and telling him to amuse himself, but embarrassingly, he only finds himself counting down the hours during those days until she gets back.

They grow closer; River becomes less like his mistress when they are alone together and more like… what? Defining that is entirely too confusing a task to even begin. But she changes, grows less cold and more open with him, confides in him about not just the facts of problems but admits when they worry her, when she is uncertain or stressed… and the Doctor always does all he can to help, whether that be practically, pouring over charts with her well into the night, or emotionally, distracting her for a blissful few hours between her sheets. She still gives him her orders, of course – but now she isn’t unknown to tag a please on the end of her commands and on some rare occasions even phrases the orders as requests. He is getting to know her routine and habits and needs almost as well as his own, and often is able to do most things for her before she need ask anyhow.

He misses her when she leaves him for even a few hours, and the nights she doesn’t want him in her bed (which, thankfully, are becoming fewer and further between) he tosses and turns restlessly until dawn, missing her warm body pressed against his and curls tickling his face.

Of course, out in public he is her slave, and there are times when it frustrates him no end being unable to simply say something he wants to her because there are people around and to open his mouth in her presence should be punishable by death – or at least a good flogging. He feels like he’s putting on this… charade – like they both are – and he hates it a bit… but he knows it’s the price to pay for being able to be at River’s side all the time and he supposes it’s a small one.

He finds himself able to be of much more use to her actually knowing what’s going on in her empire first hand. He stands behind her in meetings, listens when her advisors come to her with information and sees and hears everything that she does.

Unfortunately, this also means he has his eyes opened a great deal to just how… ruthless the empress can be. He’d watched her order slaves lashed, men executed and even seen her threaten to cut out a soldiers tongue once for talking back to her as she’d inspected her troops. He isn’t certain that if she’d had a knife handy she wouldn’t have done just that.

He should hate her, he knows that. She is cruel and merciless and her entire empire fears her. But then… how can he when he’s seen glimpses of another side to her? When he knows how insanely brilliant she is under all that beauty and brawn, knows that she can be gentle and calm, knows how peacefully angelic she looks when she is asleep? It makes him wonder too, that she’s never bestowed any cruelty on him… he’d thought her merely full of threats to make people obey her but he’s come to discover that he’d been very wrong and she was more than capable of anything she threatened.

He shouldn’t like that. At all.

(But, shamefully… he does a bit.)

\--

“The answer is no. Next.”

It is around midday, and River is seated on her throne with a collection of her advisors and chancellors hovering down below the steps nearby, as she listens one by one to the complaints and requests of town spokespeople.

“You are not reading that entire scroll, decide what’s most important and get on with it, I’ve got a hundred of you to see today,” River snaps at the rag-clad middle aged man fumbling with a long role of parchment below her. “Quickly – begin!” She sighs, shifting in her seat, dropping her head back a bit and speaks, much softer; “Mmm that’s good.”

The Doctor smiles from his place standing behind her where, as ordered, he kneads his fingers rhythmically into her shoulders. A girl kneels on the floor next to her, fanning gently with a large leaf, and a boy hovers the other side with a tray of fruits and wine. River reaches out a plucks a grape from the tray, eyes fixed on the man below as he stammers out his requests.

“Stop babbling and get to the point,” she demands after a few moments, and the man fumbles with his scroll.

“Er,” he says, round red face sweating. “It’s just – with all the fit young men being taken into the army, I – we don’t have enough workers to tend the fields. We can’t harvest our crops, your highness…”

River blinks, as if she’d been expecting him to go on. “What do you expect me to do about it?” She frowns.

“Oh – um – I just thought – I mean we hoped – we thought, er, perhaps –“

“Stop wasting my time. Next!”

Eyes widening, the man fumbles to speak again but is quickly ushered out of the hall by two stern looking guards before he has a chance as the next person is escorted in. “Honestly,” River mutters, helping herself to her wine, “These peasants expect me to solve all of their silly problems.”

Biting his tongue behind her, the Doctor presses his thumbs into the top of her spine and comes to the realisation that River simply doesn’t _understand_ the extent and effect of these common peoples’ problems. It isn’t just that she doesn’t care (he certainly likes to hope, anyway), River has led a privileged life in a palace and always been given everything she demands with a snap of her fingers – how could she understand these things? He quietly wonders if perhaps… maybe he can help her to. It would have to be done very gently, and over time – but she is becoming more open around him when they are alone together and he thinks he might just be able to get her to listen. Although listening was one thing; how did one teach empathy to a person trained their whole life to think only of themselves?

“Fine,” She says suddenly. “You have one more week.”

The man’s face, which had lit up at first, falls in dismay.

“But – your majesty, one week is not enough, we need at least a month to possibly –“

“You have one week!” She interrupts. “Out.”

The Doctor sighs, heart aching for the man and his town as he scurries, head down, from the hall.

The next man in has a long list of figures and reports for her from his and surrounding towns, and River gradually leans back more into the Doctor’s touch as she listens to the statistics, the small sigh she lets out telling him she is bored.

She tilts her neck to the side as he rubs his fingers into a spot there that always made her eyelids flutter, dragging his thumbs firmly down over the top of her spine. “Mmmm,” she hums, voice lowered. “Oh yeah, right there.”

The Doctor bites the inside of his cheek as his head is filled with thoughts and images he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about while in public.

River lets her head drop back more, exposing the smooth beautiful column of her neck that he cannot help but stare at, mouth going dry. He can see her pulse jumping beneath her skin, and oh – her neck looks like it is just _begging_ for his mouth. She makes the most delightful sighs and hums when he kisses her there – noises not unlike the ones she is making at this moment actually which only serve to make him want to bring his mouth to her neck more, then he is thinking about doing that, and about how his body is usually pressed in close to hers to do so, and how she arches her back and pushes all those glorious curves into him and –

He really needs to _stop_ this train of thought in her throne room surrounded by people.

The empress shrugs a shoulder pointedly and he realises his hands have all but stilled on her shoulders, and, flushing, quickly resumes kneading his fingers into her steadily. As the man below babbles on, the Doctor presses his fingertips into each side of her neck where it meets her shoulder and River lets out the loudest moan of all, the kind of moan she makes when – when his fingers are… _not_ on her shoulders…

Realising he is going to have a very obvious problem if he keeps thinking these things, the Doctor glances around to make sure nobody is looking at them, and leans in a bit in pretence of putting more weight into his stimulations.

“Please stop making those noises, mistress,” he begs quietly by her ear through gritted teeth, and sees River’s lips curve into a smirk she tries to fight.

He should have known, of course, that it would only make her moan louder.

The Doctor stands behind her, pressing his hips into her throne and desperately trying to focus on the figures the old man is rattling off – anything to keep the steamy images out of his head as River gasps and sighs and moans, rolling her neck, and even at one point, arching her back away from the throne and letting out a particularly obscene sounding groan of pleasure.

Fingertips sliding down over the front of her shoulders, he lightens the touch, tracing them delicately over her collarbones then letting his thumbs brush her nape. River sighs, eyelids fluttering, and he sees her shift in her seat, squeezing her thighs together and biting down on her lip. Breathing shallowly, he drags fingers that have started to tremble back up, pressing them firmly into her shoulders again, his own eyes beginning to slide closed…

“Enough,” River suddenly orders loudly, making him jump as she holds up a hand, stopping the man below mid-sentence. “Everyone out.”

Her advisors shift, looking confused. “Um – pardon me, your highness, but there’s still a long line of people waiting to –“

“I said _out!”_ She rages, and everyone in the room scrambles to obey her.

Her hand snags the Doctor’s wrist as, confused as everyone, he makes to follow. Her eyes catch his. “Not you,” she says, voice low.

The huge heavy doors at the end of the hall close with an echoing bang, and the empress turns darkened green eyes on him. She guides him round in front of her and parts her legs, tugging at the front of his toga and glancing downwards with a pointed smirk.

The Doctor’s eyes grow wide when he realises what she wants.

“Kneel,” she says, tugging again impatiently.

He hesitates, glancing at the doorway. “What – what if someone sees – if they come back in and find us,” he says, panicked, but River merely rolls her eyes.

“This is _my_ palace – and if I want to have my slave to pleasure me in my throne room, I will.” She raises an eyebrow. “Now - get on your knees,” she purrs slowly and precisely, and had she asked him to jump off a cliff in that same tone, he probably would have done it.

Dropping to his knees, the Doctor slides her silky dress up her legs as he shuffles forward, and River parts her thighs more for him, lifting a leg to hook over his shoulder and throwing the other over the arm of her throne.

The strong, delicious scent of her hits him and he breathes deeply, arousal of his own stirring in his belly as he leans forward eagerly to taste her.

He loves doing this, he loves the feel of her beneath his tongue, loves the taste and the noises she makes, loves how her sex quivers and twitches against his mouth as he pleasures her… and he loves doing just that; pleasuring her. And this way feels so intimate, so sacred -  he feels like he is worshipping her and oh, he would happily do so for an eternity if she wanted. As his tongue laps at her folds he realises dazedly how appropriate kneeling at her feet doing this while she  is seated on her throne is, and his arousal grows further with the thrill.

The empress is clearly in no mood for drawing things out, tugging sharply at his hair, rocking her hips impatiently into his mouth, and it doesn’t take long to make her come. She screams out her pleasure just a few moments later, with his tongue pushing rhythmically over her clit and two fingers inside pumping against her inner walls.

She pushes him away when her shudders ease and he loses his balance, falling onto his backside where he stares up at her, sprawled over her throne and panting hard, face flushed and sex swollen and glistening and pink. He chokes on a groan, forcing his eyes away and getting uncomfortably to his feet. The empress eyes him as he stands before her, her green eyes dark and lips parted as she stares at the erection tenting his toga. Swinging her leg down, she shifts forward on her throne and licking her lips, she moves as if to reach for him, then abruptly stops, eyes going wide and darting to the closed door at the end of the huge hall. She looks back at him, then up into his face, and then she looks away, sitting back and dropping her hands to sort her dress out.

“Get behind my throne,” she says softly, and looks almost apologetic as she throws one last glance to his desire. Clearing her throat, she sits up straight as he moves to do so, grateful at least, that he had something to hide his arousal behind until it went down, and River smooths her silken skirts down before clapping her hands three times, loudly, and all her men and guards bustle back into the room.

She makes it up to him later. She doesn’t say that’s what she’s doing, but for the first time she gives him pleasure without demanding any in return, up on her hands and knees down between his legs where he is splayed out on her bed, her mouth engulfing him and tongue working until he nearly blacks out from the sensations.

She settles herself into his side when she is done, propping her chin on her arms on his chest and looking amused as she smirks into his panting face.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to rasp out when he can remember how to form words again, trembling fingers threading through her curls. “Your name just – just slipped out again. I didn’t mean to say it.”

River sighs and bites down on her lip, before shifting, laying her head down on his shoulder. When she doesn’t reply and several moments tick by, he smooths a hand over her shoulder. “Mistress?”

“I forgive you,” she murmurs quietly, before nuzzling further into him and settling down to sleep.

\--

The next day, he finds himself standing behind his mistress overlooking a huge ring. Crowds adorn the wall on all sides, shouting and jeering and waving as they watch the violent bloodshed below, man after man falling in combat, slashed down by men on chariots with spikes on the wheels and even ripped apart by wild lions.

River had told him very little about these gladiator tournaments, but whatever she could have said could never have prepared him for the sights in front of him.

Standing by her shoulder, the Doctor can hardly breathe. “It’s brutal,” he rasps, as he stares on in horror, feeling sick to his stomach.

River’s lips tighten and she does not reply.

At the end of the third round, there is one man left standing, having plunged his spear into the last lion and killed it. He looks up at the empress and a hush falls over the rowdy crowd as all eyes turn to her. Confused as to what’s happening, the Doctor watches as River holds up a hand in a fist, with her thumb pointing out sideways. She looks down at the man, eyes narrowed, and chews her lip as if in deep thought as the man himself looks utterly terrified, quaking on the spot, his lips moving as he stares up at her as if silently pleading for his life…

_Oh_. The Doctor realises with horror that that is exactly what he is doing – and that the decision is down to the empress.

River turns her thumb up and the crowd cheers as the man falls to his knees, laughing, holding up his hands in thanks below her before two guards enter and escort him out of the ring to the waves and cheers of the crowd.

The next man to survive, however, is not so lucky.

\--

The Doctor follows the empress silently back to her chambers that evening, stepping in behind her and closing the door quietly.

River clears her throat and speaks. “You didn’t enjoy the entertainment today, then,” she voices the question as a statement, as she pulls off the small golden crown woven into her curls and sets it down on the table.

Stepping up behind her to help with her cloak, the Doctor frowns.

“I don’t care for violence… and I don’t find watching men die entertaining.”

Although he cannot see her face, he knows she is rolling her eyes as she replies, “Survival and death right in front of your eyes - and you’re not entertained.”

His hands go still on her shoulders, and he licks his dry lips, trying to banish the bloody images from his head. “You choose whether a man’s life ends or continues with a gesture of your hand,” he says, quiet voice full of anguish and disbelief.

River shrugs her shoulders to let her cloak drop, his hands dropping with it. “I’m their empress. That’s my job.”

The Doctor looks down as he folds the cloak over his arms. “Nobody should have that kind of power,” he mumbles.

She pauses, shoulders stiffening, before she whirls round, green eyes flashing. “Well I _do_. I _have_  the power to decide whether men live or die and you know what, Doctor? I _like it_.”

Eyes wide, the Doctor recoils as if she’s slapped him. He shakes his head in dismay. “It’s playing god…”

“And so what!?” She throws her hands up. “What’s so special about the gods anyway? What do they ever do - I’ll conquer this whole damn world and then _they_ will have to bow down to me too – if they even really exist.”

The Doctor drops his eyes, ready to back down and apologise, but he finds he can’t just leave it, finds his mouth opening again without his permission.

“Why are you so intent on conquering everything? Why… why is being empress of Rome not just enough for you? You have a palace, you have… everything you want here. Why…”

“Because I _don’t_ have everything I want. Rome is nothing,” she frowns. “And I don’t even have all of that yet - you know as well as me how big this world is. I want all of it, I want to know every inch of it’s surface and I want power over it all.”

“But… why?”

River opens her mouth, furious, but then closes it again, then opens it as to speak again but instead only manages to scowl at him before spinning away, livid. “Don’t question your empress!” She snaps. “You’ve no right to speak to me like that.” She yanks crossly at the claps at her shoulders. “Don’t just stand there - help me out of this damn dress!”

Shutting his mouth, the Doctor does as she orders, silently feeling like for the first time, he may have just won something between them. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Morning Nuka!” The Doctor waves cheerily to the girl stirring sauce over by the cookers in the busy palace kitchens, and she spins, grinning when she sees him. Setting the pan off the boil, she hurries over, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Doctor!” She beams. “I finished the book you lent me – read all of it by meself I did – all the way to the end!”

“Did you? That’s great!” He enthuses. “You’ll be moving on to Cicero soon, eh!? Brightest girl in the palace.”

She giggles, shoving at him, and he grins back fondly. Nuka is an olive-skinned girl of about fifteen, with dark hair and eyes, and has told him that she was taken from her family as a young girl when her village was raided by the Romans, and brought here by sea. It was so long ago and she was so young she doesn’t even remember the name of her country, and hardly remembers her parents, but had been informed after that no survivors had been left behind. His heart aches for such a young girl having to go through something like that and then being forced straight into a life of slavery. She doesn’t complain, but then she doesn’t even really remember much different now.

“Did you like it? The book?”

She scrunches her brow. “Well… I didn’t really understand most of the words. But I read them anyway!”

He laughs, reaching out to ruffle her hair fondly, and then he glances around to make sure no one is watching them, and leans in. “I have something else for you,” he says, showing her the book tucked in his robe, and Nuka’s eyes brighten. “Think you can slip away for a bit? I’ve got an hour or so before the empress should be up, I can teach you the words you didn’t understand and get you started on this one.”

“Um…” Nuka looks around and calls over to an older slave woman putting bread in an oven, who waves her away, rolling her eyes. The girl grins and grabs the Doctor’s hand, tugging him with her to the sleeping quarters just behind the kitchen, and the two settle down on Nuka’s pile of blankets on the floor and pull the books out.

“Got something for you,” Nuka tells him after they are finished, when he gets to his feet and tells her he has to get back with the empress’s breakfast. She pulls out something wrapped in cloth from under her hammock. “Saved it from the feast we cooked last night – best cake you ever tasted – promise!”

The Doctor laughs, accepting it gratefully, and reaching out to ruffle the girl’s hair fondly. “Thanks Nuka. I’d waste away if it weren’t for you,” he grins. “Keep practising yeah? I’ll try and bring you some parchment and a quill tomorrow and maybe you can start learning how to write those words down for yourself, hm?”

The girl’s eyes widen in excitement. “Oh – yes, I’d love that!”

He smiles fondly at her, before bidding her goodbye, and fetching the empress’s breakfast tray from the kitchen, makes his way back up to his mistress’s chambers.

River is still sound asleep after he’s laid her breakfast out and got her clothes for the morning ready for her to put on. He hovers in the threshold of her bedroom, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slumbers peacefully beneath her silken covers. He glances out the window at the sun blaring brightly in the sky. River he hates being woken – but she’s scheduled a training session in the courtyard for mid-morning and she hates being late for her appointments even more, so the Doctor braces himself and crosses the room, leaning over her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Mistress?”

She groans, burying her face under her blankets.

“You need to rise, ma’am, you’ll be late.”

She curses colourfully in latin, and when she raises her head, she scowls at the Doctor crossly. “I would’ve gotten up myself,” she grumbles, as she pushes her blankets away and clambers out from beneath them. “Don’t just stand there, fetch my bloody robe.”

“Sorry ma’am,” the Doctor hides an amused smile as he turns to get it, holding it out for her to slip her arms into.

\--

In the tent by her training court a little while later, the Doctor buckles her quickly into her armour. She fights at home in full armour, but without a helmet, which he hates. Training or not, those are still real swords they are using, but no matter how many times he’d tried to tell her that it was dangerous, River always only laughed and patted him on the cheek, as if the idea of her sustaining an injury was ludicrous. Her confidence is admirable, but it doesn’t ease his worries.

He stands by while she trains with water and a towel for her, making sure to keep her well hydrated between rounds. She forgets sometimes, to take a break, and he can see when she is pushing herself past her limits, running on adrenalin with sweat dripping from her, and he motions to the general watching over the fights to stop it so he can make sure she drinks. The first time he’d tried, the man had turned to him and shoved him away, furious that a slave should dare to speak to him, but River’s face was red as she parried and advanced, again and again, he could see how hard and fast she was panting, and his worry that she might drop to the ground had forced him to nudge at the man again, insisting he stop the fight. He’d thrown the Doctor away in anger, so hard he’d stumbled back and fallen into the table behind set up with water and towels, the jug in his hands clattering to the ground and smashing and the table upending. The ruckus had broken the empress’s concentration and when she demanded furiously to know what had happened and her general had explained, she had screamed at the man lividly, demanding to know why he would ignore her slave when he clearly had her wellbeing in mind. Her men had shown the Doctor a little more respect after that, wary of angering their empress.

There is no one else of authority here today – all three of River’s generals are currently stationed out at a camp based near their next target, and River is giving some simple training to some of the younger of her troops herself. The Doctor worries even more today, not just because there is nobody to break up the fights, but that, with the young soldiers being un-trained, River may be in more danger of accidently getting injured. She snorts, rolling her eyes when he suggests it, holding out her helmet hopefully.

“Don’t be ridiculous sweetie,” she says, pulling her hair back and quickly gathering it into a braid. “You think somebody with practically no skills could land a blow on me? Your confidence in my abilities is disappointing.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he huffs. “I just – I’d just feel better if you wore it – one slip would be all it took and –“

“Well then – it’s lucky I never slip isn’t it?” She says shortly to end the conversation as she wraps a leather tie round her braid.

Sighing, he leaves the helmet on the table in surrender and follows her outside.

The rowdy group of young men shoving each other about in the courtyard falls quiet immediately, scrambling into a line as River strides out in front of them, unsheathing her sword. The Doctor watches quietly from the side lines as she shows them some moves, pulling a boy out of the line to demonstrate ways to block and parry, and then sets them off to practice with each other. Afterwards she lines them all up again and makes them come out into the middle of the courtyard one at a time to fight her, challenging them block all of her moves . One by one the young men land flat on the floor as River hardly seems to break a sweat. The Doctor cannot help but smile as he watches her.

An exceedingly well muscled lad, easily twice the size of River though he is probably half her age, steps forward for his turn. The scowl on his face is determined and his teeth are bared as he draws his sword and the Doctor looks on anxiously. He blocks three of her blows well enough then suddenly swings for her, which, although she’d looked surprised, River parries easily, and advances faster. He has riled her, the Doctor can tell, by trying to get a blow in when that wasn’t what the exercise had called for him to do, and in a couple more minutes, as he reaches up to block a swing from her sword, River plants her boot in his stomach and sends him flying backwards, landing in the dirt with a grunt as his peers cheer. She blows a curl out of her face and smirks as she walks away, leaving him to pick himself up.

“Next!” She orders.

“That wasn’t fair!” The young man she’d just knocked down protests. “You used your foot – I wasn’t expecting that – I wasn’t ready for it!”

Rolling her eyes, River turns to glare at him. “And on the battlefield, you think the enemy are going to _play fair_?” She scoffs. “Get back in line.”

He squares his shoulders. “I want a rematch.”

“Tough,” she snarls. “Back. In line.”

“Not without another fight!”

Quick as a flash, River lunges and grabs him by the collar, and has her sword pressed to his neck before he can even react. “You want to stay in this army you will damn well respect your empress’s orders,” she spits, “I’ve no use for disobedient soldiers,” she presses her blade harder into his neck, making his eyes go wide as she makes her threat plain, “Understood?”

When he doesn’t answer immediately she presses even harder. “ _Understood_?”

He glares at her for another moment, before dropping his eyes. “Yes, your highness,” he hisses out through gritted teeth, and River throws him away from her.

“Who’s next?” She barks, and a another man stumbles shakily out of the line towards her.

The training session ends, and River dismisses the troops, turning away and tossing her shield down, sheathing her sword and rolling her shoulders, pulling her arms up behind her head to stretch out her used muscles. The Doctor turns toward the table near her tent, filling the bowl there with water and wetting a towel for her to wash her face off. He doesn’t see the man who had lingered behind as the young men had left the courtyard, and River obviously hadn’t seen him either, because the next thing the Doctor hears is a loud yell of, “I want another _fight!_ ”And when he whirls in alarm it is just  in time to see the boy River had refused a rematch to charging towards her with his sword raised.

She is fast, spinning and diving into a roll to doge the swing, but he had taken her by surprise and when she looks up in shock from the floor, the Doctor sees her clamping a hand to her left upper arm and notices the blood trickling from between her fingers. She whips her head round, fury in her gaze, and while the Doctor is still frozen to the spot and the man is blinking at the empty space where River had been just moments before, the empress has lunged for her sword and is on her feet, swinging for him. He raises his shield, effectively blocking her blow, but River advances again, and again, forcing him backwards, her eyes flashing as she brings her sword down on his shield over and over.

She has no shield of her own but she doesn’t give the man time to breathe let alone attempt to get in a swing of his own, raining down blow after blow on him, and it is quickly clearly apparent to both the Doctor and the man himself that she had been holding back enormously before. He stumbles, tripping over his own feet as she forces him mercilessly backwards, and as he goes down River kicks his shield away, leaving him with just a sword to attempt to block her blows.

“Stop, please!” He cries out pitifully as he cowers away from her. “I never meant to cut you, I surrender!”

At the sight of the man cowering in fear and pleading for his life, the Doctor is jolted out of his stunned stupor, and tears across the courtyard towards them.

“Mistress – stop, that’s enough!” He tries, panicked as River brings her sword down over and over against the other that the terrified man holds above his head, curled into himself as he tries to shield her blows.

“I surrender!” He cries, “I’m sorry, please, I surrender!”

River kicks his sword from his hand, and with a yell, she raises her own above her head, ready to plunge it into his heart –

“River!”

At the sound of her name she startles, freezing, and then whipping her head round with wide eyes to see the Doctor standing by them, hands out in panic and eyes pleading with her.

He swallows hard. “You’ve won,” he says, voice as gentle as he can manage, stepping towards her slowly as if approaching a wild animal. “He’s surrendered; it’s over.”

River blinks, and looks down at the boy curled up on the ground beneath her, trembling and whimpering. She looks back at the Doctor, then at the sword, raised over her head, and then finally, slowly drops her arm. She is panting hard, her face flushed with anger and adrenalin, and the Doctor sees her tremble a bit as she sheathes her sword.

“Stupid kid,” she says to the man on the floor, then spits at him before turning and marching away across the courtyard towards her tent.

Swallowing hard, the Doctor leans over the man on the floor, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Can you stand?”

Still curled into himself, the Doctor has to ask again before he seems to hear, and when he cautiously peeks up, he blinks at the Doctor. “Thought she was gonna kill me,” he rasps. “What happened?”

“The empress spared you,” he says quickly. “Here,” he holds out a hand, “Up you go.”

Uncurling himself, the man lets the Doctor help him to his feet, collapsing twice to his knees before he makes it up and turns to spit blood out of his mouth, holding a hand to his gushing nose. “I’m fine, I don’t need your help,” he shrugs the Doctor off in pride and the Doctor sighs.  

“Make sure you keep the pressure on your nose. And get a physician to check out that ankle.”

He waves him off, and the Doctor shakes his head as he watches him hobble away. Turning, he gathers his nerves and makes his way over to the empress’s tent.

She has her back to him when he walks in, quietly unbuckling her gauntlets.

“Mistress?”

“Can you fetch me a drink?” She says without turning.

“Of course.” He hurries outside to fetch the jug of water and takes it back into her tent where he pours it out into a goblet and turns with it in hand, stepping over to her.

“Here.”

River straightens without turning to face him, and her shoulders drop a bit. “I lose my temper sometimes,” she says, voice quiet, and the Doctor pauses, watching her curiously.

“I know.”

“I would have killed him.”

He swallows. “I know.”

“He’s just a kid. He’s a stupid kid, but they often are at that age.”

The Doctor dares to reach out and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know. He’s fine, no harm done. Learnt a good lesson, at least,” he tries to lighten the situation.

She turns to him, a frown on her face. “I’ve killed men for less.”

Eyes widening, the Doctor shifts on his feet, watching her carefully, warily, as confusion plays across her face.

“Why did I stop?”

Gently, he presses the goblet of  water into her hands. “You said it; he was just a boy.”

“No, she shakes her head stubbornly. “That’s not why I stopped. I wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t you standing there.”

Not understanding what’s going round that head of hers, the Doctor blinks. “I…”

Looking painfully conflicted, River stares at him for another moment, before breaking her gaze, and drinking deeply from the goblet, turning to set it down on the table.

He dares to reach out and take hold of her elbow gently.  “Here, let me see your arm.” He says, in an attempt to break the strange atmosphere in the tent. He wipes the blood away from around the wound, to see that thankfully, it was little more than a nick. “We’ll keep it clean,” he tells her softly. “Shouldn’t scar.”

“Better not,” she growls. “Can’t believe I let him get me.”

“You didn’t even know he was there,” the Doctor rolls his eyes but River shakes her head stubbornly.

“My reflexes need to be better than that.”

“They seem pretty damn good to me,” he argues gently, stepping towards her and turning her so he can unbuckle her metal breastplate where it is strapped at her sides. “You’re incredible,” he tells her softly.

River just gives a huff, and doesn’t speak any more as he helps her out of the rest of her armour.

\--

“Did you like that?” The Doctor asks the empress softly with a hint of smugness, chin resting on her hip as his hands smooth over her quivering thighs.

It is later that afternoon; River has the rest of the day off - a rare occurrence, and the Doctor has devoted his afternoon to getting her mind off the fight in the courtyard that morning. So far, he thinks done a pretty marvellous job.

Panting hard, River gives a little snort. “I’d have thought the way I was moaning would have told you that.”

He grins. “Don’t forget the swearing. You’ve got quite the tongue for a lady of royalty, you know,” he teases and River shoots him a wicked smirk.

“Oh _sweetie_ , you’ve seen nothing yet.” She purrs as he still grins. “How on earth did you learn to do that?”

Lowering his mouth to nip playfully at her hip, he smirks into her skin, before laving his tongue over the small mark. “Found an… interesting book when we were in your library yesterday.”

“Sneaky!” She gasps. “But I can’t say I’m not flattered at your interest to please me so well.”

He chuckles into her skin, nuzzling at her stomach. “That’s my job isn’t it?”

The empress tenses – just a little, and when he looks up at her in question she winds a hand into his hair and opens her mouth to respond when a sudden loud pounding on her chamber door interrupts them.

“Empress? It’s Quintus, I must speak with you immediately!”

Fingers tightening in the Doctors hair, she scowls, growling out an, “I’m _busy!”_   Towards the door.

“I’m sorry my lady but it’s urgent!”

Huffing loudly and muttering crossly under her breath, River shoves at the Doctor, waving a hand towards to door in permission for him to answer it as she slides out of bed and hunts for her robe.

Scrambling to his feet, the Doctor grabs his toga off the floor, yanking it over his head and fixing it quickly as he hurries to the door, opening it and stepping back to let the empress’s advisor in. River emerges from her bedchamber as the elder man bursts into the room, eyes wide and stressed.

“You’d better have a damn good reason for disturbing me Quintus,” River threatens as she fastens her robe.

“Unfortunately so, your highness,” he speaks anxiously, face grave. “Antonius, Romulus and Gallus… they’ve all disappeared…”

Her eyebrows shoot upwards. “What do you mean disappeared?”

“They’re gone – from their tents. They’re… they’ve been kidnapped, my lady, it seems our enemy snuck into the camp at night and took them. One of these was left in each of their tents.”

He hands the empress a creased piece of parchment, and shifting nervously on his feet from his place by the door, the Doctor watches River’s expression turn thunderous as her eyes skim the words.

“They want ransom.” She says. “ _And_ a promise to leave their town and the surrounding villages alone.” The Doctor winces as she screws the parchment up and hurls it across the room, cursing them colourfully.

“How in the hell did this happen!?” She shouts. “How did our enemy _get into our camp,_ take our _generals_ and _leave_ without anybody even bloody _noticing!?”_

“Er...” The older man shifts on his feet, avoiding her eyes.

“What!?” She demands. “What do you know?”

“Well,” he says nervously, “It seems, um… apparently there were… some celebrations the night before… I’m assuming they must have had spies who heard the commotion and they decided to take advantage of the situation.”

River’s face turns red. “You mean they were passed out _drunk!?”_

“Well, er…”

In flash, River seizes the man by the front of his robe, hauling him forcefully to her. “Is that what happened!?” She rages.

“P – please your majesty – I’m only reporting on what I’ve been told!” He squeaks, shrinking away from her, eyes squeezed shut in fear of her temper.

The Doctor reaches out and places a hand on River’s arm, and when her raging eyes fly to his he gives her a pleading look. After a pause, River lets go of Quintus, whirling from them both and shoving a hand through her curls.

“This is a disaster,” she fumes. “ _Imbeciles!”_ When she whirls back round again, Quintus has pulled himself together but still rings his hands nervously in front of him.

“What, er… what would have us do, your highness?”

“What do you think!?” She rages, pacing the room. “I want five hundred men, we ride out at dawn.”

“But – my lady – the men aren’t ready, we’re still –“ One glance from her raging green eyes is enough to silence the white-haired man, and he nods quickly. “Of course, your highness. I’ll see to it immediately.”

Quintus scurries out of the chamber and as the door shuts behind him, River lets her head drop, bringing a hand to her forehead.

The Doctor shuffles on his feet. “You’ll fix this, mistress.”

She whirls on him. “How!?” She demands. “No matter the outcome I’m going to lose men fighting to get those – those _imbeciles_ back – my army is going to be weakened for a stupid bloody cause that never should have happened! This is going to set _everything_ back. Damn it! Those idiots! I’m going to bloody _kill them_  when I get my hands on them!”

“Er –“ He shifts on his feet. “I think that would rather defeat the point of the rescue...”

She glares at him, green eyes swirling with rage. “Don’t be smart with me, I’m not in the damn mood!”

He drops his eyes, chastised. “Sorry.”

“Get the charts out,” she demands. “Make yourself bloody useful.”

He sighs, obeying her quickly, realising that his hopes for spending the rest of the day doing nothing but relaxing with her between her sheets are fast disappearing.

\--

They don’t make it back into River’s bed until well into the night, and long into the quiet, when he thinks she has fallen asleep, the empress speaks softly, voice just above a whisper.

“Will you come with me tomorrow?”

His hands freezes on her arm where he had been stroking gentle patterns with the tips of his fingers. “What?”

She lifts her head to look at him in the dark. “I’m asking you; not giving you an order.”

He stares at her, horror filling him. “I… I can’t fight!”

She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t have to fight; just come with me, to the camp. You could stay there when we go into battle.”

“But…” He swallows heavily. “What if the battle comes there? What if they invade your camp, or – or – ambush us on the way or…”

She shrugs. “It’s a possibility.”

His stomach clenches in a knot. “I _can’t_ , mistress… I – I don’t know how to fight. Please…”

River lets her head drop back down onto his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says quietly.

He bites his lip in the dark. “Are you angry?”

“No,” she says. “I expected you to say no.”

He rubs her arm gently. “Why do you want me there?”

She shrugs. “Dunno. Just… sort of used to you being around all the time.” She sighs, and extricates herself carefully from his arms, rolling onto her side away from him. “You’d be useful if there were any complications is all; my generals are all captured and my men don’t have a brain between them.”

Oh. He swallows thickly. “I… I can’t go, please…”

“It’s fine.”

“Mistress –“

“I need to get some rest.”

He reaches out tentatively to place a hand on her back, and when she doesn’t protest he rubs it soothingly, apologising through his touch until she falls asleep. 


	12. Chapter 12

 

River is so stressed in the morning that he very nearly changes his mind and says he wants to go with her. But she hurls her gauntlet at his head when he takes longer than she likes fetching her boots and he decides that maybe he is better off here after all – he has a feeling she may want someone to take her anger out on should things not go her way – and he’d rather not be available for that.

He walks with her down to the courtyard, carrying her shield and sword, and stands behind her as she addresses her men. When she turns to him and holds out her hands for her weapons, he hands them over with a bowed head, risking a glance up into her eyes under his fringe as her hands brush his. He wants to take her in his arms – would give anything to be able to kiss her, to tell her to be safe and come back to him in one piece but he gives himself a little shake, forcing the thought from his head. It isn’t like that – they will never be like that, and he needs to get ridiculous thoughts like that out of his mind.

Hands under her leg, he hoists her up onto her horse and hurries back out of the way as she reins the animal round and yells out a command to her men. Cheering, they turn and follow her as she thunders out of the courtyard, and the Doctor is left to trail back up to her chambers alone.

He buries himself immediately in a pile of parchments - diagrams and notes and plans strewn over the table as he pours over his work. It’s two days ride there, then she would spend the night in the camp,– if all went to plan she would get in and out in one day, and then the ride back… five days, at the least. Right. He could build this in five days.

It’s easy to get the supplies he needs, he simply takes himself to the appropriate places and says his mistress has requested he get them. Everyone knows him by sight now, he so rarely leaves her side, and they give him what he needs without hesitation.

He works tirelessly – it is something he came up with the idea for many years ago now but just had never got round to building – that night River had showed him her star chart it had occurred to him instantly how much she would love his idea and he’d almost told her about it then and there – but then had the even better idea of actually making it, and rather than sharing his simple plans, being able to surprise her with the finished product. He hadn’t had much time to himself since then, and it had been slightly pushed to the back of his mind – but he plans to take advantage of her time away – and he certainly needs something to keep his mind of fretting.

With everything he needs retrieved and calculations perfected, the Doctor has made a good start by the time he retires to sleep that fight night, and having been so busy, it isn’t until he lies curled in her bed alone (well – there was nobody around to insist he slept on the floor… and her scent clinging to her sheets is a little too hard to resist) that he remembers something else about his mistress, and suddenly regrets fervently not going to battle with her.

He remembers her nails clawing at his skin, her teeth on his collarbone, her impossibly strong thighs clamped either side of his hips and the wild, out-of-control glint in her eyes as she’d risen and fallen over him that night she’d returned…

She’d said she gets wound up from battle, that she needs a release afterwards – what would she do with none of her generals around to appease her? - The thought of her picking out some random soldier – of some stupid, brawny young man with more muscle than brain getting to touch her, make her moan and writhe and arch her back when he isn’t even good enough to lick her boots makes the Doctor feel sick to his stomach.

He realises the thought is probably a stupid one when he is nothing more than a slave and therefore by far inferior to a soldier, but – he _knows_ River – and he appreciates her for everything she is – these other stupid men she uses don’t even know who she really is beneath all that bravado. And she’s not like his mistress all the time when they’re alone together anymore – sometimes it is difficult to remember that that’s what she should be – and that it is never going to change.

She had scared him a little that last time – but he’d still rather deal with her in that wild, feral-like state again than know she was taking her frustrations out on some other man. Besides - it had still all been so new to the Doctor that time before; he thinks he could handle her like that now. Bite back, thrust his hips up hard to meet hers, press fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise, if that’s what she wanted. A shiver runs up and down his body at the thought.

Knowing he needs to stop thinking these thoughts because he certainly can’t do anything about it now, he throws himself into his work over the next few days while she is gone, stopping at night only when he is utterly exhausted enough to tumble into bed and fall straight asleep.

Any breaks he takes, he spends down in the kitchens; he needs to go there to fetch himself his meals and, like promised, he brings Nuka some parchment and a quill and several more books – it’s a lot easier without having to sneak it all out of the empress’s chambers and worry about being back before she misses him. He manages to teach the girl how to write the alphabet and the numerals, leaving her with lines of his own lettering for her to copy and practice on when he isn’t there. She learns quickly and he is proud of her - Nuka herself is thrilled and tells him it’s been a dream she never thought she’d be able to achieve to be able to read and write, and she owes it all to him.

He is so very fond of the girl. He’d never thought about having children of his own – he’d always been a bit of a loner and just hadn’t thought the opportunity would ever arise, and had planned to spend his life on his research and studies. But spending time with Nuka makes him think that maybe he’d like it, someday – to have a child of his own to raise and teach and make their face light up with happiness.

Then he remembers that he is a slave now, and his life is never going to be his own again, and so he quickly puts those thoughts out of his head – no good longing for something he’ll never be able to have.

The week flies by, and the Doctor finishes his project halfway through the night four days after the empress had left, and he is very glad he’d finished it quicker than planned because on his way to the kitchens late the next morning a young slave boy tears past him, knocking into him and nearly sending them both to the ground.

“Whoops – steady there, you alright?” The Doctor checks.

He nods, apologising. “You better look lively mister – her highness is on her way back.”

“What? But they’re not due back until tomorrow?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, just passing on the message – someone seen ‘em approaching.”

The Doctor races back up to her chambers and quickly throws a sheet over his work, making sure it is out of sight on her balcony with the doors closed. Then at the sound of hundreds of thundering hooves, the Doctor flies from the room, rushing through the palace, and he tears into the courtyard just as River’s army rides through the gates. Boys rush forward to take the horses at the front, and two of River’s generals dismount and hurry to assist her down from her horse. She gets off slowly, a grimace on her face, and the Doctor’s chest constricts in worry as he watches her stumble into the arms of one of the men, shoving him angrily a second later.

“I can walk on my own!” She snaps as he tries to loop an arm beneath her shoulders. “Go and see to your men, make yourself useful – get all that cargo unloaded!” She barks out, and the Doctor notices her hand pressed to her side. “And I want everyone in the throne room in an hour for a meeting – where’s my slave!? I need a bath and some food _now!”_

As everyone trips over themselves to scramble to obey her orders, knowing better than to stay in her way when she’s in a temper, the Doctor hurries to her side, taking her arm with worry etched onto his face.

“Let me help you, mistress,” he murmurs lowly, eyes frantically running over her. She is a mess, blood-stained and filthy – but that tells him nothing - he doesn’t know whether it’s her own blood or not.

She shoves him crossly. “I said I can walk!” She snarls, and he obediently lets go of her, only to watch her take two wobbly steps and collapse – he only just manages to catch her head before it hits the cobbles and drops to his knees with her in his arms as she passes out cold.

“I need some help over here!” He calls out in panic, and four men rush over, picking up the empress carefully, and carrying her up to her chambers with the Doctor hurrying behind praying to every god he doesn’t know if he believes in.

\--

The empress doesn’t stir until the Doctor has her stripped and cleaned up enough to assess the damage. She has bruises on her legs and face, a twisted ankle, a broken rib and a very nasty gash still weeping blood on her shoulder blade. The wounds aren’t fatal but they are certainly going to be painful and he isn’t surprised she’d collapsed after two days riding when she must have been in agony and bleeding.

She groans, shifting where he has her laid on her stomach on her bed, a blanket draped over her to keep her from getting a chill as he carefully cleans the wound on her shoulder.

“Shh, lie still,” he murmurs gently, when she lifts her head and tries to sit up in confusion.

“Doctor?” She croaks.

“Yes. You’re in your bed.”

River lets out a sigh, and flops back down. “How bad is it?”

He winces. “Bad. I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up until I was done.”

River groans, lifting her head to glance round. “Where’s the physician?”

“Your men think I’m a physician, remember? I told them I’d take care of you.”

“But you’re not,” she says as she rests her head again.

“Come on River – you know I know more about medicine than those quacks you employ.”

She sighs her agreement, and then tuts a moment later when his words sink in. “I told you not to address me by name,” she snaps curtly, and the Doctor hides a smile, wisely deciding now is not the time to remind her that she’d practically begged him to say her given name a few nights ago.

“Apologies, mistress.”

Dipping a clean cloth in the bowl of water beside him, he rings it out and brings it to her shoulder, feeling her jump slightly under the inevitable sting, and watches her hands curl tightly into her pillow, feeling awful for having to cause her further pain.

“How did it go?” He asks her gently as he carefully cleans the wound on her shoulder blade.

“Well, I suppose. They put up a damn good fight – they were better defended than I anticipated.”

“But you still won,” he states flatly.

“Of course.”

“They won’t cross you again.”

“That was the plan. Their treacherous town is now a pile of rubble. I’m having a barracks built there and stationing an officer, I think.”

He wrings his washcloth out and picks up the bowl of clean water. “What did you do with the survivors?”

River shifts slightly beneath his hands. “There were no survivors.”

The Doctor’s hand stills. “You killed everyone?”

“Yes.”

There is a pause as the Doctor feels himself go cold.

“River –“

“I told you _not_ to call me that!” She snaps.

“Mistress, then - I understand that you needed to set an example for what they did, but -“

“Are you questioning my judgement, slave?”

He pauses. “No. Of course not.”

“Good.”

He finishes cleaning her wound in silence, apologising when he needs to rub alcohol on it, wincing for the pain it must be causing her.

When he is done, he bites worriedly at his lip as he eyes the deep gash.

“It needs stiches.”

River tenses beneath him, and then nods. “Do it.”

He places a gentle hand on her arm. “You need to know that I’ve never done this before – do you want me to fetch the physician?”

She shakes her head immediately. “No. I want you to do it. You know how.”

“Yes.”

“I trust you more than those quacks,” she says, and he cannot help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Okay.”

River is terrifyingly brave while he stitches her wound up, only the occasional hiss escaping her lips as she lies perfectly still, and he apologises over and over as he tugs the needle through her flesh, until she snaps at him to shut up and get the bloody hell on with it. He finishes in silence, quietly in awe once more of this strong, incredible woman, and remembering all over again at the same time how dangerous that makes her.

He finds himself bending to press a soft kiss to her skin just below the wound when he is done, murmuring an ‘all better,’. He feels River tense at the affectionate gesture, and he quickly sits up.

“Thank you,” she says after a pause, and it startles him so much that he can only gape down at her for a moment before he gives himself a small shake and stammers out a “You’re welcome”.

She turns her head to look at him as he is gathering his tools and the bowls, and her green eyes find his. “Hey,” she says quietly, and he pauses to look at her carefully, taking in the small crease in her brow. “I did what I had to do out there.”

He looks back at her for a moment, before nodding tensely. “If you say so.”

Her hand on his arm stops him as he makes to rise. “If I’d let them get away with what they did –“

“I know that,” he says, cutting her off – he’s never spoken so boldly to her but he is upset enough to let the worlds tumble out before thinking. “I understand that they needed to know you’re not soft – that you’re not to be trifled with –“

“Exactly!”

“But did you really have to murder the entire town? The women and children in that village – did they kidnap your generals?”

She frowns, her fingers tight on his arm. “I had to make it a good warning. Maybe in the future people will think twice before conspiring against me. I did what I had to do,” she repeats firmly, and the Doctor shakes his head.

“But that’s just it – you didn’t do what you _had_ to do – you did what you wanted to do to get your revenge.”

River lets go of his arm and looks down as she fiddles with the sheets she lays on, a frown on her face. When she looks back up at him after a moment, her eyes are cold and determined. “Maybe so. But they won’t cross me again.”

“No, they won’t,” the Doctor agrees quietly as he gets to his feet and makes his way towards the door, pausing there to glance back at her. “They’re all dead.”

River doesn’t speak as he leaves her chambers to dispose of the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really not easy to write - I'm sure you can see why lol. As always, I would loveee to hear your thoughts and opinions - they brighten my day like nothing else! <3


	13. Chapter 13

 

The empress sleeps the rest of the day, and the Doctor takes it upon himself to go down to the throne room and bring her advisors a ‘message’ from her that she’d postponed the meeting for today. River would be cross with him, but she is in no state to be walking about the palace and sitting in meetings and he’s prepared to risk her anger to make sure she gets the rest she needs.

She wakes in the evening, hungry, and thankfully seems to have forgotten all together about the meeting anyway because she doesn’t mention it. He fetches her dinner, and she remains uncharacteristically quiet while she eats. The Doctor approaches her as she is finishing her meal, eyeing her worriedly.

“Are you in a lot of pain, mistress?” He asks softly.

She looks up at him in surprise, and shakes her head. “No. I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” She sighs, pushing her plate away. “I think I’ll just go back to bed. I didn’t get much sleep while we were away.”

The Doctor nods. “Probably a good idea. Um…” he clears his throat, wondering if now is the best time for this or not. He doesn’t know if he’d upset her with his comments earlier – but she doesn’t seem to be angry at him, just quiet, which is unlike her. Maybe she is just in a bit of pain – and a distraction could do her good. (Besides, he is bursting to show her what he’d made and doesn’t think he can wait until the morning.)

“I uh – I have something I’d like to give you, I – I made something for you, that is. Can I show you now?”

She looks up in surprise, and blinks at him. “You made me something?”

He nods. “It’s just over here,” He holds out his hand to help her up, and River slips her own into it and gets to her feet, letting him tug her across the room and out onto the balcony where he has his gift set up with a sheet thrown over it. He leads her outside and motions to it.

River looks back at him, and then at the gift, hesitating. “What is it?”

Rubbing nervously at the back of his head and trying to supress a grin, he motions for her to go and see.

Looking entirely baffled by the whole situation, the empress walks across the balcony and carefully pulls the cloth away, her eyes widening when she sees the beautifully polished wooden instrument beneath.

She lets out a small gasp, running her fingers over it gently. “It’s… - you _made_ this? It’s beautiful… is it an ornament? What’s this for?” She makes to touch the glass lens at the end and the Doctor quickly takes her hand.

“Careful! Fingerprints,” he smiles, and then tugs her round to stand behind it. “Better than an ornament,” he says, eyes bright, hardly able to contain himself as he bounces on the balls of his feet. He points at the other end of the lens. “Look through there.”

Giving him a curious look, River moves round and ducks down to peer through it like he’d directed. The astounded gasp she lets out makes every hour spent labouring over it the last several days worth it. He grins, elated.

“I… - I can see the stars!” She breathes, staring into it in rapture. “Gods… they look so close! It’s as if I could touch them!” She lets out a breath of wonder. “They’re so beautiful! I can see every tiny little star…”

When she raises her head, her eyes are wide and her face is full of wonder. “You made this?” She says in astonishment.

Grinning, he runs a hand through his hair, more than a bit pleased. “Yes.”

“For _me?”_

He nods enthusiastically. “I - well I’d had the idea some years ago – but I’d never done anything about it – and when you showed me that star chart that night and you said the stars fascinated you, I just – I knew you would love this, if I could make it and get it to work…”

River opens her mouth as if to speak again, then ducks down to gaze through the lens, thrilled, once more, like she can’t quite believe what she can see.

“You made this for _me,”_ She says again when she looks back up at him.

He nods.

“Why?” She utters as if in disbelief. He shrugs and rubs at the back of his head, not expecting the question.

“I just wanted to… you… you’ve been good to me. I know you don’t treat me how you should a slave, and I’m grateful for that. I care about you… and I like being here – with you.” He shrugs, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

When he risks a glance back up she is watching him strangely with her head tilted to the side. “You _like_ being my slave?” She says, voice dubious.

“Well…” he rubs his neck again. “I’d rather be a free man,” he gives a bit of a laugh, as if lightening the suggestion. “But you take what you’re given in life. I could’ve been a hell of a lot unluckier. And you’re… you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. I… I don’t know. I’m glad I did – meet you, I mean, is what I suppose I’m trying to say…”

She bites down on her bottom lip, and looks at him so intensely that after a moment he has to look away from her burning green eyes.

“So, uh… you like it then?” He tries to lighten the mood.

Face softening, River smiles, dropping her eyes from him back to his invention. “Yes,” she says softly. “I love it - It’s beautiful, sweetie. It’s incredible.” Her hand caresses the wood gently as if it truly is something precious to her. She turns to him then, and hesitates, as if debating with herself – then quickly steps forward, fisting her hands in his toga and hauling him down to her to press a firm kiss to his lips. He stumbles into her a bit in surprise, but manages to keep his balance with his hands on her hips, and returns the kiss eagerly and delighted. He is grinning when she pulls away, and River lowers herself back down off her tiptoes and presses a hand to his face.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs warmly, beaming down into her delighted face. River presses another quick kiss to his lips before stepping back and holding out a hand.

“Come on,” she smiles.

He blinks at her hand. “Where are we going?”

She rolls her eyes. “My bed,” she says like it’s obvious. “I want to thank you properly.”

The Doctor hesitates. “Ma’am – your ribs… you should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes again, tugging him.

“I really don’t think –“

“I once fought for three days with _four_ cracked ribs and a broken wrist. I can manage a little tumble with you, sweetie.” She tells him with a wicked smirk.

His eyes widening, he shakes his head. “I’m sure but – you shouldn’t – for it to heal properly you should rest…”

“Oh for the love of the gods – come, now,” she yanks at him and he stumbles after her. “It’s been five days, I’ve been out at battle, and I need to have sex. You wouldn’t deny your empress’s orders now would you?” She says with a wicked smirk as she walks backwards towards her bedroom, towing him with her.

“Uh – I – no, I just –“

“Excellent,” she purrs. “You’ll just have to be gentle with me,” she winks at him before turning at the door, shucking her gown and letting it drop to the floor in a silken puddle as she pads over to her bed and crawls onto it.

It isn’t until the Doctor is climbing up over her that her words sink in and their meaning clicks in his brain. Five days; she hadn’t lain with anyone while she was away, and that thought makes him immeasurably giddy.

“What are you grinning at? Take this off,” she tugs impatiently at his toga, and wiping the grin off his face, he quickly kneels up to do as she’s asked. When he is as naked as she he leans in to kiss her again, and River loops her arms round his neck, letting him lay her back – but she hisses, flinching when he back hits the sheets and he flies back, remembering her stitches.

“Oh gods – I’m sorry – I told you, this isn’t a good idea I should leave you to rest –“

“I don’t _want_ to rest,” she snaps irritably, leant up on one elbow to take the pressure off her wound. “I want _you,_ now _,_ stop making a bloody fuss and just –“

“Alright, it’s alright,” he hushes her quickly, laying back down beside her and rubbing a soothing hand over her arm. River huffs and turns onto her side, wriggling herself back against him and drawing a grunt from him as she whinges impatiently. She is hot and slick when he slides his hand round and down over her stomach and between her legs, and she rocks eagerly into the touch. Urging her legs apart as he kisses the back of her neck, careful not to touch her shoulder, the Doctor pushes his fingers down into her folds and strokes her, feeling her sex quiver beneath his touch as she moans.

“Inside,” she urges impatiently, “Now.”

He pushes two fingers into her and although River wriggles her hips down onto his hand, she shakes her head frantically.

“Not like that,” she says breathlessly, grabbing his wrist and pulling it from between her legs, then turning to roll over to face him but pushing her shoulder into the bed in the process - “Ow –“

“Careful!” He scolds, and River huffs in frustration, rolling back over and yanking at him.

“Here, get over here,” she pats the bed in front of her and he quickly clambers over her to face her. She throws her leg immediately over his hip, rolling her lower body against his and reaching down between them for his cock, hard and aching for her. She lines him up with her wet core and he enters her, watching her eyes roll back and slide closed in bliss as he sinks deep inside her. Her heel digs into his backside as she moves, urging him deep inside her as she thrusts against him, panting and moaning softly as they move. Her hands clutch at him, nails digging into his skin and he keeps one hand on her hip, the other wound tightly into her curls, still matted and dry from battle, to stop himself from accidently touching her sore ribcage.

She arches her back then flinches, and he sees her press a hand to her side as she moves, not relenting in her hurried pace, and he tries to still her hips, worried. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine – come on.”

He lets her move herself frantically over him for several more moments, revelling in the hot wetness of her around him and her sweat slicked skin sliding against him before he looks up into her face and sees her eyes squeezed shut and a frown in place as she bites down hard on her lip.

Hand firmly on her hips and the other going to her face to get her to look at him, he stops her movements. “River - you’re in pain…”

“Of course I’m in pain, my ribs are broken,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care – come on – just fuck me…”

 Her eyes are wild and her hips buck against his hand, panting breaths leaving her lips and he wants so badly to finish with her – but he’s already caused her enough pain today. He shakes his head, trying to pull out, but she grips him tightly, arms and legs wrapped round him, refusing to relent her hold. “I don’t want to hurt you…” He pleads.

“And I don’t want to hurt _you_ , but I swear to the gods I will if you don’t finish what we’ve started _right now!”_

He sighs, dropping his head to her shoulder and rubbing a hand over her lower back.

“Just… let me move, okay?" He gives in. "Please, you need to just relax.”

River huffs, but loosens her vice like hold on him. “I think you’ll find _I’m_  the one supposed to be giving the orders around here,” she grumbles, but relaxes her body and lets him take control of the pace as he begins up again much slower and gentler, slipping a hand between their bodies to stimulate her clit with soft circles of his fingertips.

“And I’m supposed to look out for your best interests,” he counters softly as he rocks into her.

She comes quickly a few moments later, shuddering and gasping in his grasp, and he holds her still, mindful of her ribs as she rides out the last of her orgasm. He makes to pull out again when she is done but she doesn’t let him, urging him on until he finds his own release inside her.

When he finally withdraws and rolls to collapse next to her, sated, he turns his head to look at her as she pants, giving a content sigh.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbles, although he is grateful – there was a time when she hadn’t cared whether or not he got his own pleasure from their couplings.

The empress just smiles. “Wouldn’t have been much of a thank you if I hadn’t.”

He leans up on an elbow and ghosts fingertips lightly over the bandage wrapped round her ribs. “Is it bad?” He asks in concern for her pain.

She shrugs, and he bites his lip, eyeing her worriedly.

The empress shifts, watching him carefully and when she speaks, her voice is soft, and holds a quiet disbelief. “You really care, don’t you?”

He blinks, surprised at the question. “Of course I do – that’s what I’m –“

She shakes her head quickly, cutting him off. “No but – you _actually_ care – aside from performing your duties…” She stares at him. “You really don’t like me being in pain…”

The Doctor swallows, brow furrowing as he thinks about her words. She’s right – he really does hate it, not just because it’s his duty to take care of her, but because the thought of her hurting makes his stomach clench in an uncomfortable knot and his heart ache.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees quietly.

She seems stunned by the realisation, as if nobody has ever truly cared for her before. And as he inches forward and wraps his arms carefully round her, he realises that perhaps nobody had.

\--

River heals quickly over the next week – or at least she certainly pretends she is, but then showing pain is not something she ever seems to like to do. He keeps her shoulder cleaned and her ribs wrapped, although she protests about the latter, claiming not to need it anymore - he tells her they both know a cracked rib takes a damn lot longer than a few days to heal, and manages to persuade her to keep the wrapping on and refrain from training for now. 

She is exceedingly busy with political matters and battle plans, and the Doctor spends so many hours standing behind her in meetings that week that he wants to scream. Thankfully, by the end of the week, River seems to sense his boredom with it, and after informing him she has another meeting, this time with the chastised generals too (who are being relieved of the stable duties for the day that they are performing as punishment) she says he can skip it, and remain behind to please himself if he wishes.

He’s glad of the break, spending a little time reading before his stomach growls and he decides to go down to the kitchens to find himself something to eat, taking the book with him. It’s probably a little advanced for Nuka but he figures he can teach her some new words anyway, and maybe help her with her writing for a bit.

The girl has three full parchments full of lettering to show him, beaming proudly when he praises her, and excitedly shows him how she’d learnt to write out her own name, and his, and even managed a couple of sentences. Time flies as he sits with her, munching on some food and helping her with the new book, and he doesn’t realise how late it has got until a sudden ruckus in the adjacent kitchen startles them.

“I’m looking for my slave, where is he!?”

 _Oh gods…_ the Doctor’s stomach drops out at the sound of the empress’s familiar voice – her very angry voice, and footsteps – several sets, hurried and furious –

He makes to scramble up just as she rounds the corner with two guards in tow, her eyes wild as they search the room and then settle on him.

She halts in her tracks, green eyes taking in the Doctor as he kneels before her with a pounding heart, book clutched in his hands and Nuka next to him, scrambling back against the wall on her pile of blankets, parchments all around them and quill in her hands.

“What… what the hell is going on?” River breathes, and marching forward, she seizes the book from his hands, staring at it, then looking back up at him and Nuka as if in utter disbelief at what she is seeing. Frozen to the spot, the Doctor watches her face go from shocked to furious in seconds.

“Mistress, I –“

Her livid eyes snap up to his. “This is mine!” She screams, hurling the book across the room and grabbing the Doctor by the ear, “ _You_ are mine – do you understand that!?” She hauls him to his feet. “And _you -_ how _dare_ you touch my things!” She rages at the cowering girl. “Guards! Take the girl!” She orders.

“No!” The Doctor gasps.

“Throw her in the cells until I decide if I want her killed - and _you_ –“ She throws the Doctor towards the door with such force he stumbles and falls. “With me, now!”

His heart pounding as Nuka is seized and marched away with a terrified, pleading look towards him, the Doctor scrambles to his feet and stumbles after River.

“Mistress – please!”

“Quiet! Unless you want to join your little friend,” she snaps and with guards everywhere, he can do nothing but trip along after her, forcing himself to bite his tongue until they are alone in her chambers and he can try and _explain_ or – do something – to sort this out.

As soon as she shoves him in before her and slams the door after her, he spins round, eyes pleading. “Mistress, please – you have to let Nuka go, she did nothing wrong it was me –“

“Yes, it was you!” She screams, turning and sweeping everything off the top of the nearest cabinet in her rage. He winces as clay jugs fall to the floor and smash and fruit and scrolls go rolling across the room. Grabbing the nearest thing she can find – a bottle of wine – she hurls it at the wall, and the Doctor jumps as it smashes into pieces. “How _dare you!”_

“I’m sorry,” he pleads, backing away from her. “Please – please calm down – it was just a few books – I was only borrowing them, I returned everything as soon as she finished reading them, I didn’t see the harm –“

“Didn’t see the harm!? You give some – some worthless little slave _my_ things and you don’t see the harm!?” Stalking towards him she upends a chair on her way, and the Doctor scurries further backwards. The last time he’d seen her this angry she’d nearly killed someone – and he is terrified as he backs into a wall and presses himself against it.

“I’m sorry!” He tries again.

“How _dare_ you give her my things! She’s just some stupid little slave - what, were you fucking her too?” She rages.

“No!” He gasps. “She – she’s just a girl – of course not!”

“I bet you were taking everything I teach you and using it on her weren’t you?”

“ _No,_ I – “

“I thought you were getting a bit too skilled pretty damn quick – you’ve been practising on _her,”_ she shoves him, slamming him back against the wall,“- she been showing you all her whore tricks has she!?”

“Stop it! She’s a just a young _girl_ – I would never –“

She smacks him across the face so hard the Doctor staggers to the side, gasping. When he looks slowly back up, with a hand pressed to his cheek, River is staring at him, breathing hard with green eyes swimming with rage.

“I wasn’t,” he says hoarsely. “Your highness, I swear – I’ve never touched another woman besides you – you know that. I would never want to… please believe me. Nuka’s just a girl, I was just – I was teaching her to read – that’s all, I swear…”

She stares at him, scowling, for several more moments, eyes narrowed before she whirls away.

“You’ve got no right to be doing that,” she says, her voice no longer raised but still seething. “You took my books without asking – you are _my slave_ – you’ve no _right_ to be down in the kitchens with some _girl_ – _this_ is where you live – here. _I_ need you here. God _damnit_ I should have you flogged for this!” She rages,  pacing across her floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes stinging  - not just for himself but for Nuka – and for this woman he was seeing before him – this wasn’t his River, this was the empress of Rome, furious with her slave and it hurt him more than he could bear to see her revert to this around him. He’d thought she’d changed – he’d hoped –

“Sorry you did it, or sorry I found out?” She fumes, whirling on him.

He stares at her, opening and closing his mouth. “I… I –“

“Yeah,” she growls. “That’s what I thought.”

He blinks back the tears behind his eyes. “What are you going to do with her?” He asks fearfully.

River looks away and does not reply, her jaw tense, and his stomach ties in a knot of horror.

“Your highness, please,” he begs, and drops to his knees before her. “Please, _please_ don’t have her executed – it wasn’t her fault, she did nothing –it was me – I was the one brining her the books, she didn’t take them –it was all my fault, you should punish _me_ , not her –“

“I _am_ punishing you,” River spits, green eyes flashing. She whirls from him, cloak flying round her ankles.

The Doctor shakes his head in horror. “No! Please! River – _please!”_

She flings her door open and then spins to face him, her cold green eyes burning through him. “You are _mine_  - and don’t you ever forget it.”

The Doctor sinks to the floor as the door of her chambers slams after her and the lock clicks shut. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a tricky one to write, and I really hope I've done okay with it. I know I keep saying it but I have to thank you all again for your support with this fic - I was totally overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter :') And it makes me insanely happy that so many of you love this story so much (especially as i am so incredibly fond of it myself) but it also makes me rather nervous about letting you down haha... So I really hope you all liked this chapter, and continue to enjoy the story as much as you have so far! :)

River will not tell him what she has decided to do with Nuka, nor speak to or look at him at all, returning very late and striding past him to her bedroom without so much as a glance as he frantically tries to plead with her,  instead slamming the door shut between them.

When he goes down to the kitchens at dawn after a sleepless night alone to fetch the empress’s breakfast, Nuka is nowhere to be seen and none of the slaves there know anything. He tries to go down to the cells but of course – the guards won’t let him in. He even attempts bluffing his way past on a claim that the empress had required he check on a prisoner but they are not fooled – apparently they’d been warned to let him nowhere near and he gets bruised ribs for his efforts before giving up and retreating back to River’s chambers.

If Nuka is killed it will be his fault – he should have known better. He knows what River is, he’s seen first-hand what happens to those who cross her and he’d been an utter fool not to think about what the consequences of sneaking around doing something behind her back would be – not just for him but for Nuka. If he’d ever stopped to think about what he was doing and the possibility of the empress finding out, this is exactly the situation he would have foresaw. But he hadn’t. And now a young girl could lose her life because of him.

He tries pleading with the empress again when she gets up for breakfast, striding in from her bedroom wrapped in a robe. He hovers by the table, and her eyes find his as she emerges and then flicker to his cheek and the purpling bruise that is forming there, and widen as she pauses. He ducks his head and in the next moment she clears her throat and crosses the room to sit down at her table. After pouring her drink the Doctor hesitates, hovering by her side.

“What?” She snaps without looking up as she starts to eat.

“About… about yesterday…”

He sees her go stiff in her seat but bravely plunges on.

“You majesty – please, if you’d just listen I just –“

“I need you to polish my armour.”

He falters at her sharp interruption and change of subject. “I – your highness?”

“I’m training after lunch, it’s been cleaned but not polished since I last used it, I need it ready.”

He frowns, closing his mouth and realising with a heavy heart that she isn’t going to hear his pleas, and he knows her well enough to know that pushing the subject would only make her mad. And angering her further is certainly not the way forward with this.

So instead he straightens and clears his throat. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” She says, stubbornly refusing to look at him as she eats her breakfast.

“No, but –“

“Then keep it to yourself.”

He hesitates. “Mistress… you have a cracked rib… not to mention stitches in your shoulder that could split if you put too much strain on them, and I really don’t think you –“

“I’m training,” she snaps, getting up from the table and leaving the rest of her breakfast untouched. “Have my armour ready. I need something to fight,” she growls as she stalks away.

The Doctor swallows hard and hangs his head, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Well fine. Let her hurt herself. He only pities whoever she is sparring with today.

She locks the door after her when she leaves that morning.

He hardly sees her the rest of the day, except when she briefly appears to pick up her armour at lunchtime, tossing a loaf of bread down on the table for him before disappearing again without so much as a word.

He wishes he didn’t, but the Doctor frets about her training that afternoon. He doesn’t understand it – she is cruel and merciless and currently has his friend locked in her prison until she decides whether or not to spare her life – for all he knows Nuka could already be dead. And yet he still paces her chambers and worries about River hurting herself. How can he care for such a woman? Why does he?

When she returns later that afternoon she thankfully appears undamaged, and orders him to help her out of her armour, which he does, silently checking her over to make sure as he goes about it. River does not speak to him, and he doesn’t dare to open his mouth – it feels like the start again, when she was just his mistress and he was still uncertain and wary enough of her to not dare do anything she hadn’t ordered in her presence.

He feels her eyes on him as he washes her, but pointedly refuses to look up into them, sponging her over quickly. Once dressed, she tells him she’ll be back late and leaves him again, but thankfully doesn’t lock the door this time. When the Doctor goes down to the kitchens with a pounding heart to fetch himself some dinner, Nuka is still nowhere to be seen.

\--

When the empress returns that night it isn’t as late as he’d expected, and he looks up in surprise from the table, getting quickly to his feet as she walks through the door. She stops a little way into her chambers, and her eyes find his from across the room, and the Doctor watches warily as she takes a few more steps forward. She stops again, unclipping her cloak and throwing it over a chair before turning to face him fully, a strangely contemplative expression on her face.

She lets out a deep sigh, and wordlessly holds out a hand.

Baffled, he stumbles forward and takes it, and River tugs him with her into her bedroom.

She turns to him. “Undress me,” she orders, but her voice is soft, the command gentle.

Nodding once, the Doctor moves round behind her and unfastens her jewel encrusted necklace before carefully removing it, and then taking off the gold adorning her wrists before bending to unlace her sandals. He helps her step out of them then removes her dress, finally walking round behind her once more to unpin her hair, letting the golden curls tumble down her bare back.

He hadn’t known what to expect, and so isn’t surprised when she turns and pushes him down on her bed. She climbs up after him, but instead of swinging a leg over his hips like he expects, she crawls up, and straddles his shoulders, inching forward until her glistening sex is hovering over his face. She threads her fingers tight into his hair to keep his face in place, and with the other hand steadying herself on the headboard, she lowers herself onto his mouth.

Lying beneath her, the Doctor doesn’t know if she is angry - or upset, or repentant – or just indifferent and plain aroused – but he chooses wisely just to do as she wishes. As upset and worried as he still is, it shamefully doesn’t seem to have an effect on his lust for her, which grips him as tightly as ever and turns his insides to liquid heat as his senses are filled with her.  

Moving his hands to her thighs, he obediently opens his mouth and runs his tongue up through her folds, probing and lapping and flicking in just the right places – he still doesn’t know what mood she is in, and he’s certainly not going to test it by teasing her tonight. Rivers fingers are tight in his hair and she moans softly as she arches her back and tosses her head back, more hot liquid filling his mouth as he drinks from her. Her hips starting to rock gently over his mouth, she begins murmuring softly as he pleasures her, half-incoherent exclamations of her pleasure and he grips her thighs tighter, spurred on by the assurance that she at least doesn’t seem to be angry, lapping at her slick folds and kissing her sex open-mouthed until she is trembling above him.  

She cries out when she comes, throwing her head back, her thighs quivering as she bucks down onto his mouth and he laps her through her orgasm, drinking from her eagerly until she lifts herself away and clambers shakily off him. She collapses by his side, panting, and when he turns his head to look at her he notices her hand holding her side and the Doctor sighs, leaning up on an elbow to look down at her in concern.

“We can wrap them tighter,” he murmurs quietly, eyeing the bandage round her ribs. “It should help a little with the pain.”

“I’m fine.” River immediately removes her hand.

He frowns. “It’s not weak to feel pain, you know, your highness.”

“It’s weak to show it. Or let it control you. I’m _fine._ ”

Laying down next to her, he leaves her be for a bit until he notices her curl into herself with a soft half-muffled grunt, and when he turns his head he sees that her breathing is shallow and she has an arm wrapped round herself, her brow furrowed. Sighing, the Doctor inches over, tugging gently at her arm.

“Here,” he says softly. “Let me see your ribs.”

Grudgingly, and he suspects only because she really is in a lot of pain, River sits up and lets him unwrap the bandage from around her ribcage, flinching every time his fingers brush over her injury. Once he has her free, he frowns as he skims his fingers, feather-light, over the bump under her skin. She squirms away uncomfortably and the Doctor tuts.

“You shouldn’t have trained today.” He scolds her, “You might have made it worse. You need to rest to heal, I told you that - you’ll kill yourself one of these days.”

“What do you care,” she mutters.

He falters a moment, hurt. “Didn’t we have this conversation a couple of nights ago?” He manages to say in a low voice as re-rolls the bandage.

The empress doesn’t have an answer for that, and remains silent while he wraps her up again, a little tighter than before in the hopes of relieving some of the pain.

“All done.”

She nods and lays back down carefully.

“Better?”

“A little,” she answers grudgingly. Then, after a pause when he is settled down too, she rolls onto her side to face him, and eyes him quietly.

The Doctor doesn’t dare to breathe as her green eyes search his, a strange expression on her face and a sudden softness appearing in her eyes that makes his heart beat harder in his chest.

Hesitantly, the empress reaches out and places a gentle hand on his face, stoking her thumb lightly over the mark there. He winces and she lets out a heavy sigh, eyeing the bruise.

“I may have… overreacted yesterday,” She says, her voice quiet.

The Doctor blinks, staring into her face in shock at the admission.  It’s as close to an apology that he could ever hope to get from the empress of Rome and hope fills his chest.

“Then – you’ll let Nuka go?”

Hand stilling immediately, River frowns, and then rolls from him, turning so her back is facing him. “Don’t speak to me about the girl.”

“But – you said –“

“I don’t want to hear her name!” She snaps. “You’re not to mention her again.”

“Mistress, _please_ –“

“ _Ever!_ ” She lets the word hand before lowering her voice. “Now either shut up or get out of my bed.”

The Doctor hesitates, mouth open with a plea on the tip of his tongue again but he wisely manages to hold it, knowing better than to try her temper. He almost wants to climb quietly out of her bed and leave the room for a moment too but realises how defiant that would make him seem and decides that perhaps – perhaps if he just did as she said she would take mercy on her.

He swallows.

“I won’t mention her again.”

Long into the night, when the Doctor awakes yet again after dozing restlessly, he realises the bed is empty beside him. Climbing out, he tugs straight the toga he’d never removed, and moves quietly from her bedchamber in search of the empress, wondering what she was doing up at such an hour.

Wandering out of her room, he is briefly baffled by her empty chambers before he spots the balcony doors open, and sees her figure outside, her back to him. He can feel the cold night air coming in through the open doors and River is sitting still and silent, wrapped in just her thin silk robe. What is she doing out there?

Grabbing her cloak, the Doctor pads quietly outside, clearing his throat at the edge of the balcony so as not to startle her as he moves towards her. She doesn’t look round, and he places the cloak on her shoulders, wrapping it round her.

“You’ll catch your death out here in that thin thing, mistress,” he mumbles. “It’s freezing.”

River sighs, tugging the cloak a little tighter round her.

“I didn’t notice.”

He hovers.

“Uh… do you need anything, ma’am?”

Still without turning to look at him, she shakes her head.

“Okay. I’ll um… I’ll leave you in peace then.” He makes to go back inside but her soft voice halts him.

“Stay.”

He falters, a little surprised at the invitation (command?), before moving quietly over to her and settling down on the stone bench beside her.

“I was looking at the stars,” River says softly after a moment, still gazing out into the sky ahead of them. A small smile tugging at her lips, she nods her head at the instrument he had built for her set up over in the corner of the balcony. “You should see them through that thing tonight. It’s quite something.”

Unable to hide the way his insides swell with delight, he ducks his head to cover a pleased smile as he shrugs. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’ve been given many gifts in my life, Doctor… jewels, paintings, horses – even land and riches… but do you know, I think… I think that’s the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever given to me.”

He turns to stare at her, his lips parting in shock. “I… really?” He utters, stunned.

She nods. “Funny isn’t it? All these wealthy royals bestowing lavish expensive gifts on me… and the thing I’ll treasure most was given to me by a slave.”

He shakes his head, immeasurably pleased but still rather stunned. “But… what about – what about when you were younger?” He says, unable to believe she’s never been given anything else that was important to her. “Didn’t you ever get anything in your childhood that meant a lot? From your parents or – or somebody?” When she doesn’t answer he nudges on, “You must have had some wonderful birthday gifts,” he quips, smiling gently. “Growing up in a palace.” He shakes his head. “I can’t imagine a childhood like that.”

She smiles too, but it does not reach her eyes, and she turns her head away a little more, gazing off into the dark night. “You really don’t know me as well as you think, Doctor.” 

He blinks. “What does that mean?”

River sighs, and is silent a long time, clearly debating whether to answer. He is just beginning to think that she isn’t ever going to when finally she speaks again.

“I didn’t. Grow up in a palace, I mean.”

He blinks again, brain trying to make sense of this information. “But  - you’re an empress!”

“I am now, yes. But I didn’t gain this position by birth.”

 The Doctor stares at her, indeed surprised by this information. “Then… how?”

She rolls her eyes slightly. “How do you think?”

He falls silent, throat going dry. _Of course._ How River always gets her way- by violence. Then, “When?” He manages to rasp out.

“Oh – a long time ago now. I was fifteen when I took the throne.”

He gapes at her. “ _Fifteen!?”_

She nods.

“You –“ His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat before continuing, “- You murdered at fifteen years old? You – but wait, no that wouldn’t have been enough - you must have had an army to – to - at fifteen!? You commanded an army!?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But… how? _Why?_ – _How?”_ He splutters, completely dumbfounded. _“ -_ How did you get command of an entire army – who _are_ you!?”

Leaning back on her hands, and looking up further above, the Doctor watches a smirk tug at her lips. “I’m empress of the third province of Rome.”

“No but – who _were_ you? How - how did you come to do such a thing at just fifteen years old?”

She sits up straight and turns her head then – finally to look at him. “Who are _you?”_ She counters.

The Doctor opens and closes his mouth, taken aback at the sudden switch. “I – I – what do you mean?”

She gives him a pointed look. “The _Doctor?_ It’s what you choose to go by, that’s what you told me isn’t it? And why’s that? Why not your real name?”

“I…”

Looking satisfied, she turns away again. “Seems we both have our secrets.”

Falling quiet, the Doctor chews on his lip as he gazes out at the stars with her. He doesn’t know what to make of this new information – to say he was stunned by it would be an understatement. He’d known there was something… _off_ , in River’s past – he’d had an inkling simply because of the way she is – nobody becomes that cold-hearted and closed off for no reason - and then there was that comment she’d slipped out accidently once about some people realising her intelligence when she was a child – it was a good while ago now but he hadn’t forgotten  it. Nor the way she’d cut herself off mid-sentence and changed the subject sharply.

Knowing what she had to do to become empress - how she came to be here, suddenly makes the way she is make a whole lot more sense… for anyone to take control of an entire empire by force they would have to be pretty damn tough - and for a _woman_ to do it…

Having lost himself in his thoughts, he startles when River speaks from next to him, her voice soft.

“How many do you think are up there?”

He glances at her to see her face tilted up to the sky again, gazing out into the distance.

“Stars?”

“Mm.”

Pulled from his thoughts back to the present, the Doctor shrugs, and turns to look as well. “Billions. And billions more we can’t see, I imagine.”

She sighs. “I wish we could.”

“Could what?”

“See them.”

“Oh. Yeah. Imagine that.”

There’s a pause, and then, “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful,” he smiles.

They fall into companionable silence after that, sitting side by side for a long time, just looking up at the stars. The Doctor’s mind is still whirling with questions about the woman next to him but he doesn’t ask anything more, resolving to be patient. He would find out, he was determined – he just had to tread carefully and be delicate – and until then he supposes he’s just going to have to wonder.

River gives a yawn from beside him and the Doctor turns to her.

“Do you want to go back inside?” He says softly, and she nods, letting him pull her to her feet. Following her into her room, he pulls back the covers for her, taking her robe before she slips between them sheets, and he hesitates by the bed. But River catches his hand and tugs at him, and he clambers gratefully in beside her where she curls herself around him, pressing her cold nose into his chest.

The contrast between this woman lying in his arms tonight and the one who’d dragged him from the kitchens by his ear in a raging temper yesterday is staggering. It’s almost difficult to believe it’s the same woman. Her breath is warm on his skin, and her body is relaxed against his own and he cannot imagine her so angry now…  and he supposes that’s what makes her so dangerous. Even the most tempestuous of seas have been, and will inevitably be calm again – River is the same, and that is what this is, he realises; the calm after the storm.

He swallows hard, brow furrowed, a pain of realisation gripping his chest.    

“She’s already dead, isn’t she?” He whispers.

River goes stiff in his embrace, but she doesn’t speak or move, her steady breathing returning almost instantly – and he realises that she is hoping to make him think she’s fallen asleep and didn’t hear his question. He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs heavily in the dark. She doesn’t fool him. 


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks pass fairly uneventfully.

For the first week he held a glimmer of hope inside him every time he went to the kitchens for his or his mistress’s meals, but each time that the dark-haired slave girl was nowhere to be seen, that hope died a little more until it was gone.

He tries his best not to think about her, because when he does he is consumed by guilt; Nuka’s death was his fault. River is what she is – anything she doesn’t like, she destroys – and he was fully aware of this fact. He wants to blame her, wants to _want_ to hate her – but he knows he cannot, because it was his own utter stupidity that got the girl killed. He can’t hate the empress for doing what is and always has been her instinct… but can he change her? Save her – from herself?

He knows there is a truly great woman beneath and he’d resolved some time ago to try to teach her how to think of others except herself, to understand the consequences her actions have on other people’s lives… and he supposes he hasn’t done a very good job of it so far, too swept up in her and all that she is, content to forget all but her once they are alone together at night.

But, after experiencing the way she’d reacted simply because he hid something he was doing from her, he wonders if it is at all possible to change her now… maybe it’s too late for her, and it breaks his heart to think that the empress is too far lost to darkness when he knows how… _amazing_ a woman she has the potential to be – how incredible a ruler she could be if she learnt to rule with fairness rather than violence.

He owes it to Nuka, at least, to try.

River is healing up well from her last battle. He’d taken the stiches out of her shoulder a couple of weeks ago and it looks like she will only have a small scar, which the empress is pleased about, praising him for doing a good job. Her ribs, she would have him believe are fully healed, but he knows she’s got at least another good month until the injury is repaired, and he tries to keep her activity to a minimum (succeeding only half the time).

It is mid-afternoon one day when he walks with her through the palace, trailing appropriately behind her as she makes her way to the east wing of the vast building where her public baths resides. They had been in a meeting all morning, and River had sat atop of her throne over lunch hearing those of her people who had requested an audience with her. She is fed up and wants to relax, and had cancelled her afternoon appointments in favour of taking some time to herself.

When they reach the open doors, the Doctor peers over River’s shoulder to the vast steamy room beyond them, alive with chatter and splashes as members of her palace relaxed in the facilities.

“Your highness,” the guard on the door bows.

“I wish to bathe alone,” she says, and the man nods once and quickly turns to hurry into the room ahead of her.

“Everybody out!” He calls out in a loud voice, banging the end of his spear against the marble floor to get their attention. “The empress wishes to use the baths!”

Although they had grumbled and protested at his first command, at that second part the people fall silent as River simultaneously appears in the doorway, and then scramble quickly to obey, the Doctor averting his eyes as dozens of naked bodies rise from the waters and hurry to find towels and exit the room.

Once the vast room is cleared of all but they, River nods at the guard, who exits after the people, closing the heavy ornate double doors behind him and leaving the empress and her slave alone.

River lets out a sigh, moving over to a seating area by the wall and unclasping and removing her cloak. The Doctor trails after her, looking around in awe.

“It’s beautiful in here,” he says reverently as he takes in the paintings that adorn the walls, the marble floors and ornate pillars that surround the vast steaming bath, set into the floor with the tiled edges descending into steps leading down into it at either end. Although the empress has taken trips here occasionally and he knew the baths existed, the Doctor had never actually been himself before, and he is quite in awe of the beautiful room.

“How is it heated?” He asks curiously, peering over the edge into the water and bending down to dip a hand into it.

“Underground,” River drawls from behind him. “There’s a furnace, and the floor is raised by pillars so the hot air can circulate in the gap below.”

Excitedly dropping to his knees, the Doctor presses his palms flat against the warm floor and bends to press his ear to the tiles. “Amazing! Where does the smoke go? There must be an outlet for it…” He says, standing back up and looking around.

“There’s flues that run up the wall and go out through the roof.”

“Oh – that’s brilliant!” He rushes over to the nearest wall, running his hands over it in delight. “I can feel the heat here too… - here’s one – here, it’s hotter!”

So enraptured was he, that he hadn’t heard the empress removing her clothes or padding over to the pool behind him, and when he hears the sound of water moving, he turns in surprise to see her descending nude into the bath, curls pinned up on top of her head and eyes sliding closed as she moves over to the side and settles on the underwater ledge there, humming in pleasure.

He smiles, leaning against a pillar and watching her quietly as she relaxes into the water.

“This room is amazing,” he says, and she opens her eyes to look over at him, nodding.

“Well?” She says after a pause, quirking an eyebrow. “You want to experience it fully or not?”

Catching on to her invitation, his face lights up. “Really?”

She nods, and beaming with delight the Doctor rushes over to the pool and round to her side, whipping his toga off over his head.

“Careful!” The empress laughs. “You’ll slip and crack your head open and I don’t fancy blood in my baths.”

Grinning at her, the Doctor sits down on the side, dipping his legs into the hot water before letting his body slip of the side and slide down into it.

He groans with delight as the deliciously warm water surrounds him, instantly relaxing all his muscles. “Ohh, it’s _wonderful.”_ He wiggles his toes against the tiles beneath his feet. “The floor is so hot!”

River nods. “The temperature in here can be controlled,” she nods upwards. “There’s a ventilator in the ceiling. “I don’t have it so hot in the height of summer.”

The pool only comes up to his neck at the deepest, and the Doctor splashes about it for a moment gleefully, ducking underneath before coming back up gasping and beaming.

“Can you swim?” River asks from the side as she watches him idly.

“No,” he laughs. “This is the deepest water I’ve ever been in.” He kicks off from the bottom, attempting to keep himself afloat by flailing his arms and legs wildly for a moment, making a terrific amount of splashes before plunging underwater and having to plant his feet on the bottom again to surface, gasping for air.

“You can be quite a child, you know,” accuses the empress, but when he looks over at her he sees that she is amused, her eyes twinkling and a smirk on her lips as she rests her arms along the ledge against the side, leaning back in the water.

“This is great,” he enthuses as he moves back over to her, making a swimming motion with his hands but wisely keeping his feet on the ground this time. River snorts, amused, and reaches out to snag one of his hands, tugging him over to the side with her.

“Mm, well keep still for five minutes,” she pretends to grumble, letting her eyes slide closed. “I came here to relax.”

He settles onto the seat beneath the water next to her, grinning happily as he relaxes back into the warmth.

“Mmm,” she sighs in pleasure after a few moments of peace, leaning back against the wall. “The heat is doing wonders for my back.”

The Doctor turns his head. “Is it sore?”

“Just stiff shoulders from training yesterday.”

Tutting, he moves over to her, nudging her gently away from the wall so he can slip in behind her. “You should have said,” he murmurs, moving his hands to her shoulders and beginning to rub his fingertips in steady circles.

“Ohhh,” she tilts her head back, relaxing into his touch, and the Doctor shifts behind her so he has a leg either side of her and she is settled between his knees on the seat beneath the water.

He loves doing this for her; the noises she makes, the way her body relaxes so fully and she becomes so soft and pliant beneath his hands. It reminds him of that first time they were together – it had begun this way, and the feel of her soft warm skin beneath his palms was so new and exhilarating. It had never lost the thrill.

He presses his thumbs into her shoulder blades and rubs her neck until she lets out a deep sigh of contentment, her small hands on his thighs beneath the water, thumbs stroking softly. He feels as relaxed as she.

Unable to help himself, he leans in a drops a lingering kiss to her neck, and when River sighs and tilts her head to the side he continues, kissing slowly up along her neck just to hear her purr and moan softly, hands sliding down her body as he twists his neck and opens his mouth over the skin just behind her ear, the way she arches against him in response a neat reward.

Humming in pleasure, River turns her head and his lips find hers, continuing his kiss as she opens her mouth  and strokes her tongue along his own. The kiss is slow and languid, and he relaxes into it, every thought leaving his head but River, and the way her mouth feels under his own, her soft curves settled against him and the deliciously warm water surrounding them. His arms slide fully round her and she turns in them without breaking the kiss, gracefully manoeuvring herself to face him, slipping both her legs over one of his own and sliding her arms up round his neck.

Groaning softly into her mouth, his hands slide unbidden up her back and out of the water to her hair, and he wishes dazedly as he kisses her that it was loose so he could run his fingers through it and feel her silken curls engulf his hands. He feels her sigh contentedly into his mouth and when he breaks the kiss for air she is smiling at him.

“Sorry,” he says, realising he’s soaked her hair and moving his hands back down into the water. “I got you all wet.”

The empress lets out a low giggle, eyes on his mouth. “Yes you _did_ ,” she purrs, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck, and it takes a second but he guffaws when her double entendre clicks.

Grinning he leans in close again, lips brushing hers. “Actually I’m not sorry at all.”

“Me either,” she whispers, smiling, before closing the small space between their mouths and kissing him again.

“Your majesty! There you are, I’ve been – oh!”

Gasping, River wrenches herself away from the Doctor, shoving him back and snapping her head round to stare at the man standing in the doorway. Heart pounding with the surprise, the Doctor stares over at him too, recognising him as one of River’s chancellors.

“I’m so sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean to interr –“ His eyes flickering over to the Doctor, he pauses mid-word, eyes widening. “-rupt…”

“Cassius!” River splutters out, “What the hell are you doing in here!?”

“I – I was looking for you – the guard said you were inside –“

“I’m bathing!” She exclaims, voice livid.

He looks puzzled. “I… that’s… not usually a problem, my lady? I –“ He looks between her and the Doctor suspiciously. “- apologise if I… _interrupted_ anything…”

“Yes, you did!” River shrieks. “You interrupted me bathing! How _dare you!?”_

“I –“ he frowns, confused. “It’s… a public baths, your highness, I didn’t realise –“

“ _There’s a guard on the door!”_

Seeming to realise just how furious she is, the man pales, and straightens, taking two wise steps back. “I – I’m so very sorry your highness, I didn’t mean to intrude, I –“

“Get out!” She screams.

The man turns and wisely flees from the baths. The Doctor watches River stare after him, breathing hard and – is she shaking?

“Are… are you okay?” The Doctor asks carefully. She doesn’t reply.

Swallowing, he moves forward in the water. “Mistress?”

She twists away as he reaches for her, standing up. “Um, I… I’ve enough of bathing now,” she mutters quietly, turning her back as she steps out of the water and picks up a towel, wrapping it round her.

The Doctor quickly clambers out after her, grabbing a towel for himself.

“Uh – mistress, wait!” He hurries after her as she moves quickly over to her pile of clothes folded by the side.

“What?” She says as she dries herself off quickly and picks up her dress.

“Is… is it bad?” He asks, voice quiet and worried. “That he saw us, I mean…”

River doesn’t reply for a moment, dressing quickly, her back to him. “Why would it be? I’m the empress. I do what I want.”

“I know, but –“

“I need to be somewhere, I’ve just remembered,” she mutters as she quickly slips her sandals on. “I’ll see you back in my chambers later.”

River is gone before he can open his mouth to reply.

\--

She doesn’t return to her chambers until that evening, walking in with a two slave boys behind her carrying her meal. The set it down on the table and scurry away at a flick of her hand, the door closing behind them. River offers him a glance in greeting, shedding her cloak and tossing it over a chair.

“Mistress,” he greets back, crossing the room to pull out her chair for her at the table.

“Have you eaten?” She says as she sits down.

“No ma’am.”

She motions to the chair next to her. “Sit,” she invites.

Stomach growling at the sight and smell of all the food laid out, the Doctor does so eagerly. It is not uncommon for the empress to allow him to eat with her now; she says she likes the company, and it’s a good time for them to discuss any matters she wishes with him. He certainly has no complaints; the food she shares with him is infinitely better than the bland simple meals he would get for himself.

She begins chattering on about a political matter that the Doctor honestly finds a little boring, but nods along to anyway, interjecting comments where she wishes him to.

They are halfway through their meal when a knock on the door disturbs them.

“Yes?” She calls out.

“It’s Quintus, my lady.”

She flicks a hand at the Doctor and he quickly gets up from his seat, moving over to stand by the wall. “Enter.”

The old man hurries in, looking stressed. “Your highness – sorry to bother you,” he says when he sees that she is at the table munching on a leg of chicken. “But there – there’s been a grave incident, I’m afraid…”

If the Doctor hadn’t happened to have been looking at her, he wouldn’t have noticed how she tenses at the words.

“I’m eating dinner, Quintus,” she snaps.

“I know, but, my lady –“

“Did you not hear what I just said? Now is not a good time, I will deal with anything that needs it later!” She waves a hand dismissively. “You may go.”

“But –“

“ _Out!”_

“But – my lady – I – I’m so sorry but –“

She flies to her feet, face raging. “Quintus!”

“But there’s been a murder my lady!” The elder man blurts out. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologies. “But you see – it really is urgent, you must come immediately , it’s –“

“Fine,” she cuts him off sharply. “I’m coming.” She marches across the room towards the door. “Slave,” she snaps her fingers, “My cloak.”

“- It’s Cassius, highness.”

The Doctor freezes as he is picking up her cloak, and when he looks slowly up he sees that River too, has halted on the spot, her back to him, whole body tense.

Quintus shuffles nervously by the door. “My lady? You should really come now – he was found in the gardens, for all we know his murderer could still be around and –“

“I said I’m coming!” She snaps. “Slave, where’s my cloak!? Hurry.”

Swallowing down bile, the Doctor scurries across the room and holds her cloak out behind her, watching her slide her arms into it as his heart thuds. He moves round in front of her to fasten the clasp by her neck and River’s eyes slide to his as his fingers brush her throat, before she quickly averts them. Clearing her throat and moving away, she smooths her hands over her cloak.

“Well come on then,” she mutters to her advisor as she moves past him.

The Doctor does not make to follow her – he doesn’t want to go, and by the way River strides out of the door and shuts it hastily behind herself and Quintus, he gathers she doesn’t want him to either.

 


	16. Chapter 16

It is very late when River returns.

Having worked himself into a bit of a state – half torn between anger and disappointment, the Doctor is waiting for her, sitting quietly at the table. He stands when she enters and moves over to help her out of her cloak.

“Did you sort the matter out, mistress?” He murmurs, to see what she would say.

Faltering a little, River then clears her throat, shrugging her cloak from her shoulders. “Yes. I did. And I think I’ll turn in early; I find myself quite exhausted.” She begins making her way to her bedroom.

He speaks before she can leave the room, his voice steady and quiet. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

She freezes on the spot. “Kill who?”

Biting back a scoff, the Doctor shakes his head. “Seriously?” He says quietly.

River whirls to face him, her green eyes flashing. “You think I killed Cassius!?”

Turning to hang up her cloak, the Doctor avoids her eyes, a frown on his face. “I _know_ you killed him.”

“How – how dare you?” She breathes. “Why would you accuse me of –“

“I think we both know why you did it,” he says plainly.

“I didn’t!”

“I’m not stupid, River,” he frowns at her, shaking her head. “You know that.”

Looking away from him, her jaw tight, the empress takes a few breaths before she turns and begins marching away from him. “I told you not to address me by name – you’ve no right,” she mutters crossly as she goes.

The Doctor follows her hurriedly, refusing to drop it. “He didn’t have to die,” he insists. “Just because he interrupted us?”

Ignoring him, River strides into her bedchamber, propping her foot up on her chaise-long to begin unwinding her sandals from her legs with jerking movements, ignoring him purposefully.

“I know you were upset that he walked in on us by why would you murder him?” The Doctor persists, risking her wrath to get his point across. “He didn’t _mean_ to – why end a man’s life for accidently –“

“ _Enough!”_ River shouts, whirling on him, shoe half-undone.

But it’s not enough – and he is shouting back before he has a chance to even think about what he’s doing. “Killing is your answer to everything, isn’t it!?”

“Don’t speak to me like that!” She screams.

“But it is! Goddamnit – you can’t just _murder_ anyone who angers you!” He cries, voice catching in his throat.

“Yes I _can!”_ River yells back, plunging on, her voice rising even more as she works herself into a fury, advancing on him. “I _can_ , and I _will_ and don’t you try and stop me, slave, because I swear to the gods you’ll be next in line!”

At those final words shouted at him, the Doctor jolts back like she’d slapped him. 

He takes a deep breath, and collects himself to speak with a quieter, hoarse voice. “I would gladly die to stop you mindlessly killing any more.”

He turns and crosses the room, and he must have utterly stunned the empress with his words because he makes it all the way to the door of her chambers before she calls after him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me! Slave!” He hears her actually stomp her foot behind him as he opens the door, refusing to look back round. “Don’t you _dare! Slave!”_

He closes the door behind him swiftly, and not a moment too soon as the sound of something heavy hitting it and smashing sounds after him, making him wince. Heart pounding and legs shaking, the Doctor takes off striding down the corridor away from her chambers, not knowing what the hell he is doing and counting down the seconds until that door bursts open behind him and the furious empress of Rome comes after him, but, amazingly… it does not. He gets all the way to the end of the corridor with blood pumping though his veins rapidly and his legs wobbling and he stops, turning in utter disbelief to see that indeed, the hallway was empty aside from him.

She hadn’t come after him.

He hadn’t planned what he was going to do aside from walking out of her chambers, and as soon as he’d put his hand on the door he’d thought he wasn’t going to be allowed to get very far anyway - but by then he was committed, and felt braver than he’d had since the moment he’d met her so he’d done it, fully expecting to receive her wrath for it… but she hadn’t stopped him.  

And now he stands at the end of the vast corridor feeling utterly at a loss.

He hears a bang and then an almighty crash coming from her chambers all the way down the hall and winces again; he can only imagine the tantrum she is throwing in there and decides hastily that whatever he is to do, he’d better get away from here as quickly as possible before she changes her mind and comes to find him to taken her fury out on him instead.

After quitting the top west wing where her chamber sits, he wanders the palace aimlessly, keeping to the lesser used hallways and out of sight as much as possible. Before, he would have gone down to the kitchens, but he finds he is less than welcome there since -

He is lucky if he gets a meal from them most of the time – thankfully he is allowed to share the empress’s more often than not. He can’t find it in himself to be bitter about it; he know he deserves their scorn.

The gardens are always nice at this time of night and often empty – but halfway there he remembers what transpired there earlier that evening and quickly changes course. He avoids the slave’s quarters below all together, knowing he would not be welcome there – even when he was ‘one of them’ he was always ostracised, and every public area in the palace has guards stationed, and so, after a couple of hours of skulking in the shadows, he makes his way slowly back to River’s chambers in defeat, ready to face her wrath.

When he gets there, the door is locked.

He has a key, of course, but it does not work; she has clearly latched it from the inside as well. He does not dare knock; she wouldn’t have double locked it if she had any intention of letting him in.

Sighing and letting his forehead fall against the wood, he stands there a moment before he resigns himself to the fact that he is going to be spending the night outside of her chambers. He looks round, at a loss.

There is an archway a little way down the corridor where a statue mounted on a platform is nestled, and letting out a heavy sigh, he trails over it, slipping in behind the platform and the wall and sliding down to the floor. He is out of sight here, at least – he doubts anyone passing would notice him, and he figures he is safe enough to sleep here, if he must, and close enough to the empress’s door that he will hear should she emerge.

She doesn’t, and he finally falls into an uncomfortable exhausted sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, awaking only a few hours later with a stiff back and a sore neck at the sound of a door opening down the corridor.

Scrambling to his knees, he peeks round the corner of the archway to see the empress leave her chambers and take of at a brisk pace down the hallway. He waits until she is out of sight before sighing and getting stiffly to his feet, stretching out aching limbs and traipsing down the corridor to her rooms.

He lets himself in, and immediately stops short in the doorway.

Vases are smashed, her bookcase is upended and a statue has been knocked over and shattered into pieces. He treads carefully, making his way quietly through the mess, his eyes assessing the damage. Stopping in the middle of the room, he lets his shoulders slump, shaking his head in disbelief at the destruction she’d caused.

Perhaps he’d made the right decision in getting out of her way last night – although, he has to remember that he was the one who angered her so in the first place. Only time will tell what effect it has had directly on him.

He sets to work on righting the mess, heaving and struggling to get the bookcase upright first before returning all the books to their rightful shelves and then starting on the shattered remains of several vases that appeared to have been hurled at the walls.

He is making good progress when he moves over to pick up a fragment of pottery that has scattered over to the balcony doors and he freezes, spotting sight of something through the glass. Straightening, the Doctor opens the door and walks slowly out onto the balcony, staring at – what _was_ \- the star-gazing instrument he had made for the empress.

It lies on the stone floor in pieces, battered and smashed.

He stares at it, his chest aching and throat tight.

“Can you fix it?”

Utterly startled by the soft voice behind him, he spins, eyes wide to find the empress standing a few feet away, eyeing him quietly.

He glances back at the destroyed instrument. “I…”

“I… - I didn’t mean to break it,” she says.

The Doctor swallows, turning back to look at her. “Then how did it get like that?” He says quietly.

Biting her lip, the empress looks away. “Just fix it, please. I want it.”

He eyes the pile of wood and metal. “I… I don’t know if I can.”

River frowns at him. “Then make another one.” She turns on her heel. “Come, I have guests arriving, we need to be in the throne room.”

They do not speak of what transpired between them the previous night at all as he follows her through the palace – the Doctor certainly isn’t going to bring it up if she doesn’t; he is not a glutton for punishment after all, and he silently feels bolder with each step they take that she does not mention their… - he supposes it was – argument.

He stands behind her throne just off to the side, and watches as a party is escorted through the huge double doors at the end of the vast room, the members of her palace that have gathered to greet them bowing their heads politely as they pass. He remembers River mentioning something about having important guests coming to stay for a few days, but he cannot recall the specifics. He supposes they are some wealthy family from somewhere or other – perhaps even a ruler of their own among them from another province, judging by the respect all in the room pay them.  

When the group reaches the foot of the steps to River’s throne, a handsome, well-built man comes forward, bowing his head to the empress once before looking up at her, a smile on his lips as everybody falls silent.

“It is an honour to finally meet you, your highness.”

River’s lips quirk into a smile. “The honour is all mine, Tertius.”

The man waves behind him, and two slaves step forward from the back of the party, one carrying a velvet cushion atop which sits an elaborate neck adornment of gleaming gold, with bright turquoise stones set deep into it, and the other holds a golden goblet, as beautifully adorned in jewels as the necklace. The hold them up, offering them to River with their heads demurely bowed.

Regarding the gifts, she smiles.

“You shouldn’t have,” she says, and Tertius smiles back at her.

“Alas,” he says, “If I’d known rumours of your astounding beauty had been vastly understated I would have realised that no jewels would be worthy of adorning you.” Behind her throne, the Doctor resists the urge to roll his eyes. Tertius gives the empress a smirk. “But I would be honoured if you would accept them all the same.”

Getting to her feet, River walks down the three steps so she is level with him, and offers her hand with a smile. He takes it, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles, eyes holding her own.

“It is I who holds the honour, and I thank you for your gifts,” River speaks politely, motioning to two of her own slaves who hover  nearby to come forward and take the gifts.

Withdrawing her hand, she turns and moves back up to her throne. “I have arranged a tournament for this afternoon for your entertainment, and there will be a feast tonight. You will be shown to your quarters, I hope they are to your satisfaction.”

“I am sure they will be, your highness.”

River tilts her head. “Then I look forward to seeing you again when you’ve rested. Somebody will show you to the ring.”

The party bows their heads. “Thank you.”

When they have left he hall, River stands from her throne, and the Doctor follows as she leaves the room herself, striding down through her people who part and bow to her, with two of her chancellors scrambling after her, rattling off questions and checking arrangements for that evening. It was set to be quite the feast, it seemed.

They both leave them when they are halfway back to River’s chambers,  hurrying off to see to the things she’d ordered, and glancing around to check that the corridor they stride down is empty aside from them, the Doctor leans in. “Who are the guests then?”

The empress does not reply, nor glance round at him as she walks, the only sign she’s heard him is the slight tightening of her jaw. Right. She’s still angry with him, then.

When they get back to her chambers, she demands he fetch her some food, and when he returns from the kitchens she eats quickly, not looking at him once, then rises from the table.

“I need you to make yourself scarce tonight,” she speaks shortly. “I’ll be entertaining.”

The Doctor pauses. “In here?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” She says in a clipped tone. “Make sure you’re not here when I get back from dinner.”

“I –“ The Doctor pauses, swallowing. “You… don’t wish for me to accompany you to the feast?”

“No, I don’t. And I’m assuming you’d rather not be at the tournament this afternoon – you can work on fixing that for the rest of the day,” she nods towards the smashed instrument still out on her balcony, before fastening her cloak and spinning on her heel, marching from the room. 

He doesn’t.

While she is out, he manages to find out about the party who’ve come to stay; specifically, Tertius. Like he’d suspected, he’s from a family who rule one of Rome’s other provinces – a neighbouring one to River’s. Tertius’s father rules it – but the man is elderly and Tertius is set to take over when he passes on.

It is wise then, he supposes, for River to make sure she is on friendly terms with him – but he cannot help but wonder how this fits into her long term plans. Doesn’t she want to rule all of Rome for herself? – For a start, at that.

He gets the rest of her chambers straightened out and disposes of the smashed pottery and statue. He even manages to find another to replace it and has it brought up from one of her spare chambers.

He doesn’t touch the destroyed instrument on the balcony.

He makes his way to the kitchens that evening, managing to find a corner to hide in to eat his meal and lurks around afterwards. The place is a mass of activity with the feast taking place and nobody pays him any mind; he even gets roped into helping a bit, things to chop and mix getting shoved under his nose and he does so gladly. He loiters there as long as he can before somebody shoes him out, and by then it is late as he makes his way slowly back up to River’s chambers, and he suspects she is already inside with her… _company_ , and settles on the floor outside her door to wait.

The Doctor tries not to think about what is taking place inside, but the sounds of River’s low giggles accompanying a deep laugh cannot be mistaken through the door, and when the sound of amusement dies down and their low voices grow further away he knows they have moved through to River’s bedchamber.

He damns the vice that squeezes his heart, causing a tight pain in his chest as he sits alone in the empty hallway.

An good hour later, the Doctor scrambles to his feet when her door opens, the sound of two low laughs accompanying it as River and Tertius appear.

“Yes, it was,” River smiles in response to whatever he’d said, and Tertius moves past her, throwing his jacket on as she leans against her door frame wrapped in her silk robe.

“Goodnight,” he turns in the doorway to bid her, and smiling softly, River places her hands on his chest and tilts her face up to accept his kiss. The Doctor looks away, throat tight.

“Sleep well,” she purrs, smiling after him as with one last smirk and a wink he turns to stride away.

River snaps her fingers, “Slave,” she bids, turning on her heel and making her way back inside.

Letting out a heavy breath, the Doctor shoves a hand through his hair and follows her, closing the door behind them.

River whirls to face him as soon as she is inside, hands on her hips. “Well?” She demands.

Blinking innocently, the Doctor looks back at her. “Mistress?”

She jabs a finger towards the balcony where the destroyed instrument still lays. “Why haven’t you touched it?”

He glances over at it then back at her, still opting not to speak.

“I told you I wanted it,” she frowns at him, “I need you to fix it.”

“I’m sorry, mistress, I can’t,” he shakes his head. “It’s damaged beyond repair.”

“Then I told you to make another one!”

“I can’t, I’m sorry...” He lies, “Those lenses were one of a kind. It would be impossible to replicate them; I’m no glass maker. I was just lucky to find them exactly how I needed.”

River stares at him, her face dismayed.

“There’s nothing I can do,” he says in an apologetic tone.

“But…” She looks down at a loss.

“I’m sorry.”

“…I didn’t mean to break it,” she says quietly.

“I think…” The Doctor swallows before gathering his courage and continuing. “I think you did, mistress. You just didn’t think about what that meant until it was already done.”

Her wide eyes flicker up to his and she stares for a moment, upset, before she spins away from him.

He swallows hard. “It’s the same with people, isn’t it?” He dares to ask, voice quiet. “You kill before thinking about it when you’re angered…”

When she doesn’t reply he gets the courage to continue on, carefully keeping his voice calm and gentle though his tone is grave. “You can’t go on like this, River. You can’t just take people’s lives like they mean nothing…”

She is silent after his words, the rebuke he’d been expecting still not coming.

“I didn’t kill him because I was angry,” she finally says quietly.

“What?”

“Cassius.”

He blinks at her back. “Then… why did you?” He frowns, saddened. “It was that shameful to be seen with me, is that it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not shameful.”

“Then… why?”

“Because…” River pauses, taking a breath, hands fiddling in front of her. “He… shouldn’t have seen what he did. It – it wasn’t safe to let him live. For you.”

The Doctor stares at her back, utterly stunned and confused. “Safe?”

“For _you_. You – you would have been in danger if I’d let him live.”

Mouth open, the Doctor can only stare, completely shocked and confused by her words.

“Why would… why would I be in danger?” He utters.

Dropping her head back in exasperation, River finally spins to face him. “You’re just a _slave_ – do you not understand that!? If somebody takes against you, or – or sees you as a threat they will kill you – and I wouldn’t be able to punish them or do anything about it because you’re just a _slave_ and they know that – you’re in danger if anybody finds out that I’m fond of you, don’t you see!?” She practically screams the words at him, whirling away again and pressing her fingertips to her forehead when she is finished. The Doctor stands behind her, frozen to the spot and staring at her heaving form, utterly stunned into silence.

He swallows hard, and finally manages to find his words. “But… I thought you said you –you can do what you want? As empress, you… aren’t your slaves here for your pleasure if you wish?”

River throws her hands in the air. “For my pleasure, yes… he didn’t see you pleasuring me, did he? He saw me kissing you.”

The Doctor stares at her.

River shakes her head, turning back to face him, eyes pained.

“I killed him to protect you.”

He gapes back, heart pounding.

“I… I don’t want you to kill for me,” he finally manages to breathe, chest aching.

River frowns at him. “Well I don’t want anyone taking you from me. I won’t let them. And you don’t know Cassius – he would have done it gleefully.”

The Doctor turns his head away. “A man is dead because of me,” he utters, anguished.

“Why do you care?” She says, voice utterly puzzled. “He hated you. He would have beat you to a pulp once if I hadn’t stopped him. And he would have killed you in an instant had he the chance – you were dirt to him.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t hold my life in any higher worth than any other man’s.” When he looks up at her, she looks confused, but is frowning.

“All men are not equal, sweetie. Some lives are worth more than others.”

“No.”

“Yes. It’s the way it is. The way it will always be.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Well it is!”

He shakes his head. “Not to me.”

“Then you need to learn the ways of this world – and fast. Or you won’t last very long here.” He frowns, and River huffs and looks away, ending the conversation. “I’m going to bed.” She turns and stalks off towards her bedchamber, pausing at the door to turn to him expectantly. “Are you coming?”

“Is that an order?”

She scowls. “No, it’s not,” she says darkly, spinning on her heel and marching off into her bedroom alone.

He drops his head onto his chest, letting out a heavy sigh.

He hovers in her chambers for several minutes, fiddling and pacing the room, before giving in and resignedly traipsing through after her into her bedchamber.  She is curled up beneath her sheets, her back to him, and he strips off quickly, dropping his toga to the floor to join her dress with a soft thud. He leans over the bed and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Can you move over?” He asks softly, and after a pause, without looking round the empress shuffles forward, making room for him in bed behind her. He slips beneath her sheets, tucking them up round them, and when River shuffles backwards a few inches, aligning her body pointedly with his, he sighs and obediently slides his arms round her, feeling her settle back into them with a deep sigh.

He doesn’t like it; It feels wrong, holding her after some other man has touched her, made love to her.

Trying to remember that sex does not hold the same worth and meaning in her head as it does in his, he makes his body relax against hers – and he supposes it means something that it is his arms she is falling asleep curled up in and not Tertius’s.

As if she has read her thoughts, River runs her fingertips over his arm and speaks softly. “I didn’t want him to stay.”

The Doctor frowns at the back of her head. “Tertius?”

She nods.

He doesn’t know what to make of her decision to tell him that, so remains silent.

“He’s hoping for a marriage.”

The Doctor lifts his head to look down at her sharply, stomach twisting in a knot. “But – you wouldn’t. Marry him, I mean…?”

River scoffs. “Me, marry? You must be joking - no _man_ is ever getting control of my empire, I’m not that stupid.”

Hiding a smile, the Doctor feels relief flood through him, settling back down. “He’s rich though, isn’t he?”

“Disgustingly,” she confirms.

“And he owns a lot of land, I mean – a marriage would grant you equal ownership of it – and riches. That doesn’t tempt you?”

 “Oh,” she says, and he can hear the grin in her voice, “I’m going to get his land. But I don’t intend on sharing it.”

“Then how…?”

She turns in his arms to look at him, eyebrows raised and a wicked smirk on her lips, and the Doctor gasps.  

“But – he trusts you! You’d invade him!?”

She laughs. “Oh Doctor – nobody trusts anybody at the top. It’s dog eat dog, kill or be killed. And only the most ruthless of them all comes out on top. Conquering is just so much easier – and more fun when your enemy least expects it. I won’t even have to invade –he’s invited me there. I can walk right in and take it.”

The Doctor lets that sink in. “That’s _awful_.”

She chuckles in the dark. “That’s politics, sweetie.”

He opts not to comment again; he’s done quite enough debating with the empress tonight and he doesn’t feel his brain – or his nerves – can take anymore.

And it _does_ makes him feel better that she had a reason for laying with Tertius at least, no matter how unsanitary a one it was.

Shuffling closer, River nudges him onto his back, settling herself against him with her head pillowed on his shoulder and hand resting on his abdomen.

“Doctor?” Her quiet voice shatters the peace again after a moment.

“Mm?” He answers  in the dark.

There is a pause. “I’m… I’m sorry. For breaking your gift.” She whispers.

Utterly stunned by her apology, it takes the Doctor a moment to just let that set in. He turns onto his side to face her, looking carefully into her eyes in the dark.

“Sorry you did it, or sorry because you don’t have it anymore?” He whispers back.

River’s brow furrows. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No.” He sighs. “Would you still have been sorry if I’d been able to fix it?”

She thinks for a moment, forehead scrunching up even further ,before her eyes slide back up to his. “Yes,” she says. “I… I was angry with you, but… I shouldn’t have done it. You made it for me, spent all that time and hard work on it and… and now it’s broken. _I’ve_ broken it.” She looks so sincerely anguished that the Doctor cannot help but reach out and wrap his arms round her, pulling her gently to him. She curls herself against him, tucking her head under his chin. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs again, and he squeezes her tightly.

“Apology accepted,” he murmurs, heart soaring at the words that had just left her lips.

It certainly wasn’t a transformation – but it was a start, and one she had made all by herself.

He holds her tightly and brushes his lips over the top of her curls. He is proud of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is an awful lot to happen for one chapter in here and I debated splitting it but kind of didn’t like the state of mind the first half would have left you in… anyway this is your lot for the week now because I have an assignment due in at the end of it that I’ve neglected atrociously to write this fic lolol. Eagerly awaiting your thoughts as always sweeties! :)
> 
> /whispers/ I don't think they had glass in ancient Rome shh let's pretend


	17. Chapter 17

 Hovering at the edge of the training court with towels and water, the Doctor watches anxiously as River mounts a jittery grey horse as the stable hand who’d brought it out holds onto its head. Once seated, she nods at him to let go, and as soon as he does the animal shoots backwards until River boots it in the ribs and it leaps forwards again, dancing around for a moment before she manages to get control of it. Placing both reins in one hand, she holds out the other for her long spear which the boy passes to her and then hurries off, leaving them to it.

The horse is clearly inexperienced but River handles it firmly and patiently, and the Doctor watches as she canters round in circles with her spear for a few minutes, sitting several bucks and leaps until it has settled. She has a target set up in the middle of the arena – a sack stuffed with straw on top of a stick stuck into the ground, and he looks on anxiously as she brings the horse to a halt by the side of the court and lines it up to face the target. She lifts her spear and with an almighty snort the animal leaps sideways in alarm, skittering along the edge, the Doctor having to dive out of its way as it ploughs past.

“Um – mistress?“ He calls out as she manages to get it back under control, rubbing her hand on its neck and bringing it back round. “Are you… sure that horse is suitable for this?”

He sees River roll her eyes. “It’s just young,” she says, raising her spear slowly again and managing to keep the animal still this time, though the whites of its eyes show as it watches the weapon warily. “It has to learn somehow.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Can’t someone else do it? I mean – don’t you have horse trainers?”

“I prefer to train my own mounts; if I’m going to be riding it into battle I want to know that it’s going to listen to me.” And with that, she looks straight ahead at her target, and picking up her reins, nudges the horse in the side with her heels as she shouts out a command for it to go, and panicked again, it takes off at full speed leaving a cloud of dust behind as it thunders across the dirt floor.

Unfortunately, its steering doesn’t appear to be very trustworthy, and River misses the target the first five attempts she makes as the horse veers sideways a the last minute, refusing to go anywhere near the makeshift soldier. She is nearly thrown out of the saddle when it makes a particularly sudden leap at one point and the Doctor feels his stomach drop, until he sees that she has somehow managed to remain seated and breathes again.

“Maybe you should take a break – or – or leave it until another day,” he suggests when she comes over for water. Both her and the horse are panting and sweating profusely, the animal’s neck in a white lather and foam dripping from its mouth.

“No. It needs to learn. If I stop now it’ll never go near that target.”

“But it’s –… dangerous,” he finishes with a sigh as River has already turned and galloped off. Lining the horse up and raising her spear, the Doctor watches worriedly as it prances and rears, front feet jumping off the ground as she holds it, and then she lets it go and they’re off with a yell from River, flying full speed at the target in the middle, the empress’s face set in determination and spear aimed and –

It all happens so fast – she hits the target, the resounding noise echoing off the walls of the training court as her spear stabs through the dummy, and the next second she is hitting the floor hard as the startled animal gives a violent sideways leap, and then she is laying on the floor as the panicked horse gallops round the court.

“River!” He gasps and takes off running towards her, relieved to see her pulling herself up before he can even reach her. “Are you alright?” He gasps as he falls to his knees by her side.

“I’m fine,” she growls, shoving him away crossly as she spits dirt from her mouth. “Catch that damn animal!”

It takes the Doctor a good several minutes to actually manage to get hold of the frightened horse, finally managing to corner it and approaching slowly, murmuring soothingly and holding out a hand until he is close enough to grab it’s dangling reins. He takes it back over with him to the empress, who has now got to her feet but is leaning heavily on the dummy, bent over with her hands clasped in front of her and brow furrowed, and he inwardly curses.

“Mistress? Is it your ribs?” He asks worriedly as he approaches.

She shakes her head, straightening up, and holds the hand she is clasping for him to see a sharp piece of wood wedged in her palm. “The damn spear must have splintered – _bloody hell_ , hurts like a bitch,” she curses, her knuckles white.

“We need to get that out,” The Doctor says as he eyes it worriedly.

“You don’t say,” she snaps.

“Uh –“ He falters, looking at the horse which is still eyeing the dummy unhappily, nostrils flared and flanks heaving. “I’ll take the horse back then help you up to your chambers and we can sort it out?”

Flexing her fingers as she looks down at the wound, River nods, but then, as he turns with the horse  to do so – “No!”

The Doctor pauses, turning back round. “Mistress?”

Her eyes are wide and she looks vaguely panicked. “No, I uh - get someone else to take it. Er – I need you here.”

The Doctor looks around. “There’s… no one else here, ma’am… I’ll be as quick as I can –“

“No!” She stops him again, “You – You don’t know the way, you’ve never been to the stables…”

He shrugs. “No but I know where they are, it’s fine I –“

“You’re not taking it back!”

Freezing at the sharp tone, the Doctor blinks at her, brow furrowing. “But – we can’t leave it here? There’s nowhere to tie it and –“

“ _No,_ I –“ She looks around, eyes wide, and then determination sets on her face. _“_ I want it killed.”

The Doctor sucks in a gasp. “What!? But –“

“It threw me!”

“It was startled!” He exclaims, placing a hand on the animals neck.

“It’s dangerous! I’m the damn empress and it _threw me_ – I could have been killed!”

“It doesn’t know you’re the empress! It just got a fright, you said it was just young before –“

“I don’t care!” She exclaims. “I want it killed!”

He backs away holding tightly to the reins, shaking his head in horror. “But –“

“Your highness!”

Both look round at the call from the entrance to the court to see one of River’s generals jogging towards her. “Sorry to interrupt but your guest is supposedly looking for you – I said I thought you’d come down here,” he says as he reaches them. “Uh –“ he looks from River who is still clasping her hand to the Doctor holding the horse. “Is everything alright, your highness?”

River lets out a huff. “Yes, it’s fine. I just fell.” She glances at the Doctor. “Er…” she waves a hand. “Take the horse back Antonius, slave come sort this splinter out. Tertius will have to wait.”

Her general moves over to take the still panting horse’s reins from the Doctor, yanking it sharply when it dances sideways. “Looks more than a splinter,” Antonius comments as he nods a head at River’s hand. She rolls her eyes.

“I’ll live.” She snaps her fingers at the Doctor. “Come. Make sure it’s washed down,” She instructs Antonius over her shoulder as she walks away. Confused, but certainly relieved, the Doctor hurries after her, putting her previous fleeting command down to her temper.

\--

Rising from her tub dripping water, the empress steps out of it with her hand in the Doctor’s for balance, and offers him a smile as he wraps a towel round her body.

“How’s the hand?”

“Fine,” she says, looking down at the wound. It luckily hadn’t needed stitching once he’d pulled the piece of wood out, just a good clean, and he’ll wrap a bandage round it to keep it clean when she’s dry.

Smelling divine, she turns and saunters away from him with a wink, dripping a trail of water over the floor as she goes that he cannot care about having to mop up, too entranced by the sway of her hips and the round of her backside and those tanned toned legs glistening with water.

When he has emptied her tub and quickly mopped the floor, he wanders into her bedchamber to find her sitting at her dressing table, still wrapped in the towel, at least a dozen pieces of gold jewellery laid out in front of her as she applies her makeup. Her eyes are rimmed with dark and a hint of green, eyebrows painted to perfection and she purses her lips as she carefully paints on a deep blood red.

“You’re making quite the effort tonight,” the Doctor comments as he settles down behind her on her bed where he can watch her in her mirror. He cannot help but wonder if Tertius is the reason for such pains.

She quirks a perfect eyebrow in the mirror at him. “I always make an effort.”

He nods at the jewels on her dresser. “Sure you have enough limbs for all that gold?”

River gives him a glare that wipes the smirk off his face sharply.

“Sorry.”

“I should think so,” she says. “Come, comb out my hair.”

He doesn’t hesitate in obeying her; he hardly needs an order to make him want to get his hands in her glorious hair.

Standing behind her he tugs his fingers gently through the ends first, knowing better that to try and take a comb straight to it fresh after a wash. It fascinates him even more when it’s wet – how it still curls so vivaciously… originally he’d assumed the empress’s hair was styled this way purposefully in keeping with what appears the be the fashion among women here, but he’d soon realised that her beautiful tight golden curls were just natural.

He idly wonders if she _began_ the fashion, and thinks it a likely possibility; who wouldn’t want to attempt to imitate the empress’s astounding beauty?

He drags his fingers through her locks slowly, carefully untangling all the knots, and River hums softly as she finishes on her lips and sweeps a soft pink powder over her cheeks.

“I’m going to dress,” she says when he is finished combing it through, rising, and the Doctor moves over to pick up the gown she’s laid out on her bed.

“It’s alright, I’ll do it – you should go and find something to eat; the celebrations after the meal will go on very late into the night you won’t be able to eat there.”

“Oh,” he puts her dress back down. “Okay, I’ll er… I’ll be quick.”

She nods, waving him off. “Send the girl in to fix my hair.”

He hurries down to the palace kitchens and back as quickly as he can, managing to swipe a piece of bread and cheese without anybody noticing, all far too busy with preparations, and is just finishing his meal back in her chambers when the empress emerges from her bedroom.

His hand pauses halfway to his mouth with his last bite as he stares at her. She smirks, giving a twirl, jingling and rustling with jewels and silk fabric. She wears a blood red dress – it’s her favourite colour, he’s come to realise – it certainly suits her – that is tapered at the shoulders and falls dangerously low at the front, pleats of silk draped over her breasts, between which sits a huge gleaming ruby. The neck adornment Tertius had given her, he realises. Her arms and fingers too drip with gold and she wears a neat crown of gold leaves woven into her curls which are half piled up on top of her head. She looks breath-taking; she looks like she could rule the world.

“How do I look?”

His lips quirk into a smile.

“Dangerous.”

River smirks. “Perfect.”

“I’ll get your cloak.” He retrieves her finest one, and holds it out for her to slip her arms into, fastening it at the front. River leans back into him just a little as his fingers fumble with the clasp and he smiles into her hair. When he steps back she turns round, and eyes him before tutting.

“Come here,” she motions, reaching out with a hand when he moves closer and smoothing down his hair with a concentrated frown on her face. “Can’t have my slave looking like a farm hand,” she mutters as she  parts it neatly with her fingertips and brushes the front back. She licks her fingers to get the stray lock of hair to stay out of his eyes, and lowers herself back down off her tiptoes when she is done. “There,” she smiles.

He dares to quirk a cheeky smirk. “How do I look?” He echoes her words.

River rolls her eyes, turning away from him, perhaps to hide the amused smile he doesn’t miss. “Harmless,” she quips as she walks over to the door.

Grumbling good naturedly under his breath, the Doctor follows, opening the door for her and motioning her out of it with a bow.

He stands behind her at dinner, back against the wall along with the other slaves, making sure to hurry forward to keep her goblet topped up whenever she snaps her fingers and quietly watching the interactions play out over the lively table.

With nothing to do but watch, the slaves know more about what goes on between everybody in the palace than anyone – except maybe River, who somehow manages to interact herself and yet still keep a sharp eye on everything that is going on around her. She misses nothing, and it makes her all the more formidable a ruler.

Tertius, seated to River’s right as the guest of honour, flirts heavily with the empress all night, and the Doctor tries not to watch his hand on her thigh or the way he leans in close to whisper in her ear. River only encourages his advances, and he tries to remember that it is all part of her plan to ultimately gain control of Tertius’s empire – it still makes him horribly uncomfortable to watch though.

After the meal, the party moves into the throne room which has been transformed and decorated lavishly for the event, the hall filled with seating and cushions and many small areas made up where guests can relax and socialise together. Music plays, wine flows freely and the Doctor prepares himself for a long night of doing nothing but observing. He doesn’t know why she’d insisted he come, really; appearance’s sake, he supposes.

River, of course, seats herself in her throne and the Doctor stands behind her, bored mostly as she speaks with those who approach her, sipping from a goblet of wine and looking nothing if not regal draped comfortably over her throne.

The music, lively to start with, changes pace after a while, once everybody is filled with enough wine to be pleasantly relaxed, and most of those that had been dancing find somewhere to rest with each other. The mood generally seems to change, and though he cannot put his finger on why, it makes the Doctor uneasy; he shifts on his feet off to the side of River’s throne and glances over at the empress.

She is conversing with a dark-haired woman dressed in deep purple and cream, with jewels adorning her almost to match the empress’s. River throws her head back and laughs at something she’d said, and then eyes the woman quietly, biting her lip with that smirk still dancing on her mouth, and holds her goblet out for the Doctor to take. He does, and as soon as her hands are free she leans back in her throne, and tilts her chin up, eyebrow raised challengingly, although what the challenge is he has no idea…

The woman smiles back, steps closer and leans down, and the Doctor’s eyes bulge when River reaches up to bury her hands in her dark curls and pulls her into a deep kiss.

One hand still woven tight in her hair, River slides the other up her thigh, gripping it and pulling so the woman’s legs are spread either side of River’s own, and then the empress slides her hand up beneath her dress, over her thigh and round to the front, wrist twisting as her fingers clearly delve into her folds. She gasps against the empress’s mouth, and River pulls back to let her moan, her mouth moving to the woman’s neck, nipping and biting, dragging her tongue over her skin with a low moan of her own.

Slipping her hand out from beneath the woman’s dress, the Doctor watches, mouth open as River brings her glistening fingers up to the other woman’s lips and feeds them to her. Her eyes locked on the empress’s, she takes River’s fingers into her mouth and sucks obscenely, her hands wandering over River’s body, one cupping and squeezing a breast, fingers pinching a nipple through her dress as her tongue laps up and between the empress’s fingers. His mind totally blank with utter shock of what he is witnessing, the Doctor tries to remember how to breathe.

River looks over the woman’s shoulder as she sucks on her fingers again, and catching the eye of Tertius who reclines nearby, she raises a jewelled finger, beckoning him over. As he approaches, eyes dark and a smirk on his lips, River plants a hand on the woman’s chest and pushes her gently back, motioning for her to lie on the ground which she does willingly. Standing over the woman, Tertius leans down over River’s throne, a hand planted on either armrest and as he leans in close, the Doctor watches with a pounding heart and torn feelings of arousal and jealously as River reaches out to grasp his prominent erection through his toga and squeeze.

Tertius moves in as if to kiss her but she pushes at him too then, motioning with her chin to the woman laid out on the floor. With a smirk and wink, he turns and drops to his knees, moving down over the dark-haired woman’s body and kissing her instead, deep and filthily as he rids her of her dress, spreads her legs and pulls up his toga.

The Doctor watches, half horrified but unable to look away, half enraptured as the couple on the floor begin to have intercourse before their very eyes. His face burning, mouth open and eyes wide, he turns to glance down at River and sees her leaning back in her throne, eyes locked on the writhing figures and unmistakable arousal on her face. A quick glance round the room tells him that nobody is shocked by the display; those that aren’t watching with obvious enjoyment are wrapped up in embraces of their own as the music drones on in the background.

After a moment the empress turns her head, twisting in her throne, and her clouded eyes find his -

“Your majesty?”

The glance is broken immediately, as River looks back round at the man kneeling at her feet.

“We would be honoured if you would care to join us,” he speaks, motioning over to an area near the centre of the room where seating and cushions are arranged in a circle and a group of people recline on them. River looks over before narrowing her eyes at the man, clearly debating, then smiles and nods, getting to her feet.

She steps neatly round the couple still sprawled out beneath her throne, throwing a glance back at the Doctor and motioning him to follow with a snap of her fingers as she descends the stairs. He hurries after her, tripping over Tertius’s foot and blushing, mumbling apologies – then blushing further when he looks down and realises Tertius is far too busy to have even noticed.

River weaves through the writhing bodies littering the hall with a nonchalant air, the man on her heels and the Doctor hurrying along behind, head ducked and cheeks red. Three women get up off the chaise-long in the middle of the seats and cushions when she approaches, and she settles down there, reclining back and accepting the drink offered to her.

The man who’d given her the drink, instead of dropping his hand and stepping back lets his fingers glide down over the empress’s arm, and the Doctor gapes open mouthed at his boldness, and is then ever further stunned when the only reaction River gives is to sigh and lean back further into the cushions behind her. Encouraged, the man’s hands begin to roam over her form as another approaches and kneels by her feet where, eyes on her face, he begins to carefully unwind the laces of her sandals.

The Doctor looks away, face hot as one of the first man’s hands reaches River’s breast and squeezes through her dress, but everywhere his eyes land he sees bodies in various states of undress and stages of sexual activity. He doesn’t know what to think – or what to do.

One of the women in the group approaches River and makes to climb up over her but the empress stops her with a foot, giving her a smirk and shaking her head.

“Undress first,” she demands, and with a sultry smile, the woman doesn’t hesitate to begin untying her toga. She drops her dress to stand naked before them and the Doctor sharply averts his wide eyes again, instead watching River as she rakes a darkened gaze slowly over the women’s form. She lifts her eyes back to hers and nods her closer with a motion of her chin, patting the space between her and the back of the reclined chair as she shifts over to make room.

The woman gracefully climbs over her to settled down beside her, body pressed into her own. She begins immediately kissing River’s neck, her hand sliding over her stomach, caressing her body. River gives a low hum, tilting her head to the side and then holding out her drink pointedly towards the Doctor, who moves forward and takes it for her with shaking hands. He is tempted to take a gulp but knows the consequences would be severe – he’s never craved alcohol once in his life before, but right now he thinks he’d quite like to be blissfully unaware.

River’s now free hand glides over the naked woman’s body, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples as she sucks on the skin below the empress’s jaw. The man unlacing River’s sandals now has both of them removed, and is slowly making his way up her legs, kissing and caressing her smooth skin as he inches her dress up.

River suddenly pushes the other man at her side away, motioning him over to the two women on the floor nearby, and he obeys, joining them happily, and then River reaches out a hand and turns her eyes on the Doctor.

When he remains frozen to the spot, she waves him closer impatiently, and dazed, he stumbles to her, dropping to his knees by her side when she tugs at his toga.

The woman next to her has unfastened one shoulder of River’s dress, her lips moving over her skin there, and eyes hooded, River reaches up and unclips it the other side, pulling it down to guide the Doctor’s hand to a bare breast, curling her fingers in his hair and tugging his mouth down to the other as she arches into the touch, pushing her hardened nipples against his palm and tongue. Breath coming out short and fast, head spinning and heart pounding, the Doctor lets his instincts take over, hand squeezing and tongue lapping and as he tries not to think about anything other than River spread out before him, just like when they are alone in her bed.

She whinges, threading fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth harder against herself and he opens it obligingly, sucking on the stiff pink bud and listening to her gasp, feeling her writhe and arch beneath his touch.

He moves back to flick just his tongue over her and glances down to see that the man kissing up her legs has pushed her dress up over her hips and is pushing her knees apart, ducking down to nip along her inner thighs. River moans, hips lifting, leg hitching over the man’s strong shoulder as her fingers curl tight in the Doctor’s hair and he…

He can’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers out, recoiling, head shaking. “I  - please forgive me.” He stumbles to his feet and flees the hall as fast as he can before the empress can even call after him.

His heart pounds and blood rushes in his ear as he runs through the palace, not stopping until he is safely shut inside the empress’s chambers, slumped back against the door gulping in air. Feeling like he can finally breathe since that hazy darkened hall full of writhing figures and the pungent scene of perfumes and sex, he stumbles over to the table on shaking legs and collapses down into a chair.

To his utter surprise, mere minutes after he gets back, the door creaks open. There’s nobody else with a key, and so he doesn’t look round as he hears it shut softly.

“Doctor?” She crosses the darkened room, footsteps steady on the marble floor, to stand by him. “What’s wrong?”

“I uh… I didn’t feel well, mistress. I’m sorry.”

River presses a hand to his forehead, and sighs upon finding his temperature perfectly normal, dropping down into the seat next to him. “What’s _wrong_?” She asks again softly.

The Doctor doesn’t look up. “You should go back to the party ma’am.”

“Didn’t you like it?” She presses gently.

Swallowing hard as the image of men and women with their hands and mouths all over River bursts across his mind, the Doctor tightens his jaw and looks away.

Refusing to give up, she places a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her. “What is it sweetie?” She asks, brow adorably furrowed in utter bemusement. “You’ve touched me a hundred times before… was it because it was in public? I know how shy you can be Doctor but it’s not like I asked you to take off any of _your_ clothes or –“

“It wasn’t the fact that _I_ was touching you,” he mutters half under his breath before he can stop himself.

She drops her hand. “What?”

“I…” He shakes his head, looking away and when she does not speak again and he finally looks back up at her, a slow smile is curling her lips upwards.

“You’re _jealous_ ,” she says, and to his surprise there is no anger in her voice, only – is that wonder?  

He turns his face away. “I know I don’t have any right,” he mumbles. “I just – I understand that you do what you please – with whom you please, I just – it was hard seeing it. I couldn’t…” he clears his throat. “Things are different back home. When you – if – when…  when you’re intimate with someone... it – it’s only them, it – well that’s the way I was brought up.  And – I mean I understand you and I couldn’t be that way,” he says quickly, “It’s just… it’s just difficult to actually _witness_ …” he cuts himself off, voice catching in his throat and looks away, shoving a hand through his hair, and taking a deep breath.

“You should go,” he mumbles. “Enjoy the party.”

River is quiet for a long moment before she gets to her feet, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the painful sound of her footsteps leaving the room – only, the noise doesn’t come, and instead the empress simply lets out a heavy sigh.

“I find myself too tired to entertain anymore tonight,” she speaks softly. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

He looks up at her in surprise to find her watching him with a soft smile and a hand outstretched. Stunned, he takes it, and lets her tug him to his feet and after her into her bedchamber.

Inside, she turns to him, small steady hands pushing off his clothes and he reaches out to do the same so that they are both naked by the time River pulls him back onto the bed with her.

She moves over him, kissing softly down his neck and over his chest, hands stroking, coaxing him to hardness until he is ready for her, and then she slides herself into position and sinks down on him.

She moves purposefully, hips circling and thrusting and pulling all sorts of sounds from his throat, and he doesn’t think her eyes leave his once. When they climax, it is together, and still that dark green gaze bores into him as if she is seeing right into his soul as they share this raw, deep pleasure.

Slumping over him, spent, she finally breaks eye contact, letting her head drop to rest on his shoulder, short fast breaths hot on his neck, their bodies heaving in time as they try to catch their breath. The Doctor strokes trembling hands over her sweat-slicked back as his cock softens inside her, and letting his eyes close, he silently makes a fanciful wish that he could remain here forever more.

He thinks of earlier, of the party, he thinks of all those people back in her hall enjoying themselves – and each other – and then he thinks about the fact that the empress is here, alone in her chambers with him, draped over him and as close as she can possibly be. Tightening his arms round her, he turns his face into her hair to deny even to himself the smug smile that comes to his lips.  

After a moment, when their breathing has calmed, River lifts herself off him carefully, and rolls to his side, reaching down to drag a sheet up over them tiredly. His arms, which have not lost their hold on her, pull her snugly against him and he turns with her just enough to tuck her completely into his embrace.

He feels fatigue settle over him and dance at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness quickly, and he would never admit – not even to himself – that the last word that crosses his mind before he drifts into blissful sleep that night is _mine_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm very nervous to post this one... I know the scene at the party may seem quite extreme, but in actual fact sex parties (or 'orgies' although i'm not sure whether they actually used that term or not) were common in ancient Rome, especially among the royals… and slaves would often be made to take part too – which is pretty awful when you think about it as I’m sure most of them didn’t want to, but unfortunately to the romans they were seen only as bodies, and not people.. :/ Anywayy - the point is that this wasn't something that was that big a deal to the empress, because I know a lot of you were upset over tertius in the last chapter - these are very very different times to our own and she's grown up this way - doing as she pleases with whom, and it wasn't going to even occur to her to change that... hopefully the end of this chapter has satisfied your discomfort with the situation... 
> 
> I don't know if I'm even making sense here, lol, and I'm rambling quite a lot and its 1am so i should probably just end this note now and go hide and hope you don't all hate me for this chapter okaybyee


	18. Chapter 18

 

“No, no, possibly, no, yes, maybe, ask me when I’m in a better mood.”

River cuts off her chancellors who have been matching her fast pace as she strides down an open corridor, rattling off questions and queries.

“But your highness –“

“Goddamnit I haven’t even had lunch yet will you leave me _five minutes_ to myself today!? No! Go away!”

Walking a good several paces behind her entourage, the Doctor ducks his head to hide an amused grin. He wonders when the empress’s temper started being amusing to him. He supposes he’s just relieved when it’s not aimed at him – he can’t really have grown so fond of her that he finds even her faults endearing – can he?

“Er – is this a bad time?”

The Doctor looks up sharply, the amusement fading from his face instantly at the sight of Tertius approaching, eyeing her chancellors as they scurry off, chided.

“Uh –“ River waves a hand. “No, no it’s fine.” She sighs, and lets him fall into step with her. “Just been a long morning.”

He leans in closer as they walk. “I could help you relax…” He suggests, and the Doctor scowls at the back of his head. That was his job.

River throws him a flirtatious smirk. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m afraid I’ve far too much to do today.”

“Well…” He leans in close again. “Do you think you could spare me a moment? I… have something I’d like to discuss with you before I leave. Something very important.”

The empress pauses, and looks at him for a moment before she nods quickly. “I think I can find a few minutes for you,” She smiles.

Tertius grins back, and glances round before placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her over to the open side of the corridor and out onto the balcony that runs along the length of it, stopping with her at the edge and turning to face her. The Doctor hovers back by one of the pillars that line the hall, watching them quietly.

Visibly taking a breath, Tertius begins to speak. “I’m sure you know that my coming here was not for the sole purpose of a leisurely visit to an adjoining empire to my father’s.”

 “Mmm, I figured as much,” the empress says, and he smiles.

“But, River…” He takes her hands in his own. “You are… so much more than I could ever have hoped to find upon coming here. A marriage would benefit us both but I must admit… there would be a large amount of… _personal_  gain for me too…”

“Hmm,” River hums, looking away from his eyes, out over the landscape of Rome. “And what’s the gain for me?”

Tertius turns her face back to look at him. “My undying love,” he promises.

“Really.” She sounds unconvinced and even… bored? Hovering quietly in the background, the Doctor wonders how many proposals of marriage she’d had in her life. He suspects he wouldn’t like to know the answer.

“Yes. I promise,” Tertius murmurs to her, thumb caressing her cheek before he moves it back to join the other over both of her hands. “The marriage would hold many practical benefits but I _will_ love you, River Song. I do.”

She smiles, and looks down at their joined hands.

When she doesn’t reply, Tertius leans in close, River’s hands still clasped in his. “What do you say?”

The empress turns her face away. “It’s a big decision.”

“Yes.”

The Doctor eyes Tertius’s large hands clasped round River’s smaller ones and bites his cheek in an effort not to pull a face. The royal’s eyes are intent on the empress and a small smile dances on his lips – he is confident then, thinks he knows the answer already, and the Doctor cannot wait to see his face when River rejects him…

She looks back into his eyes and a small smile graces her lips. “I’d have to think about it.”

From his place by the pillar, the Doctor blinks.

Tertius just leans in further and lifts a hand to cup her cheek. River turns her face slightly to nuzzle into the touch. “How long might it take you to think?” He asks in a flirting tone.

River smiles back, turning her face further to press a light kiss to his palm without breaking eye contact. “Does that offer of a visit still stand?”

He sways closer still. “Of course.”

She smiles wider. “That’s when you shall have my answer then.”

Tertius looks at her quietly, a slow grin coming to his mouth. River is clearly leading him to think she’s going to accept, and the Doctor would almost feel sorry for Tertius and the surprise he’s actually going to get if he wasn’t crowding the empress’s personal space like that. River had asked him if he was jealous yesterday, watching other people touch her and… he knows he doesn’t have any claim to her – and he never _could_ but… does he want to? Is that what the sour feeling in his gut while he watches this exchange right now is about?

“Promise?” Tertius rumbles in a lowered voice.

She leans in a bit. “Promise,” she whispers.

“Seal it with a kiss?”

The empress smirks before leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips. Obviously having expected more, Tertius sways towards her, nearly losing his balance when she pulls back straight away. She laughs, and makes to move away, but he grabs her arm playfully.

“Call that a kiss?

“I call that a promise,” she teases.

She slips neatly out of his grasp and turns to walk away back into the hallway, swaying her hips intentionally, but Tertius does not appear content with her response, and after staring after her for a second, strides after her, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her, shoving her back none too gently into one of the pillars she’d made to stride past.

“I call _this_ a promise,” he growls, diving in to press his open mouth to her neck. The Doctor watches, stunned, as River’s eyelids flutter and her body relaxes in his grasp, her arms sliding up Tertius’s strong torso. He knows she’s playing a game with the man but he also knows River – and there’s no mistaking the genuine excitement on her face. As Tertius pins her to the pillar and slides one large hand down the side of her body demandingly she takes her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes are dark with arousal that wasn’t there a moment ago – is it him? Or just the way he is handling her?

Tertius begins gathering the skirts of her dress in his hand and that is when River stops him, looking a little reluctant as she pushes him back with one hand on his chest, the other moving down to grab his wrist.

He pauses, pulling back to look at her in question, and then leans in as if to kiss her, but she turns her head, pushing him away with a teasing smirk. “Let’s save that until next time,” she purrs, slipping out from between him and the wall with a pat to his cheek.

He groans, dropping his head. “You’ll be the death of me.”

River winks and turns away, and the Doctor sees the wide amused grin on her face and the way she’s holding back a laugh. Oh – she is _bad_ – and he really shouldn’t like that so much.

“Fetch me some lunch, slave, and bring it to my chambers,” she orders in a louder voice, before striding off down the hallway looking all too pleased with herself, and the Doctor glances once more over to Tertius, who is slamming a frustrated fist into the pillar, before he spins and hurries off towards the kitchens, biting back laughter of his own.

\--

The empress goes off in the afternoon to see to some matters of state and the Doctor is left to please himself for a few hours. He picks up some of his research that he’s neglected terribly of late, but finds himself distracted and the figures on the page in front of him poor at holding his attention. He cannot stop thinking about the exchange he witnessed earlier that day between River and Tertius. He knew what River was doing was very cruel – leading Tertius to believe she would be visiting in a couple of months to tell him she agreed to become his wife, when really she planned to invade and take his empire for her own by force. And probably kill him in the process. A cold shiver goes down his spine to think of it, but the matter is not where his mind lingers the most.

No, instead he cannot help but remember over and over the way Tertius had handled the empress, the force and confidence with which he’d pinned her beneath him – and mostly the way River’s face had clouded with lust in response. The way she’d seemed to almost have to fight herself to push him away.  It… confused the Doctor, as to why it hadn’t angered her. If he ever tried that with her she would undoubtedly slap him for it.

Or… would she?

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really know how she would react because he’s only even been nothing but respectful and hesitant when he is with her – letting her make the first moves, direct how she wants him, what she wants him to do – and of course, she _is_ his mistress… but he knows he’d be lying if he said that’s really all they were when they were alone together now.

She lets him speak his mind around her, lets him ask her things, question her, tell her what he does and doesn’t like… so would she let him handle her how he wants too? Is that what _she_ wants? Is that what she likes in a lover?

He may be being driven by a slightly absurd sense of jealously, but the Doctor doesn’t _care –_ he feels determination settle within him to prove that he can be just as good. He can handle her like that too – he can be rough and demanding and confident if that’s what she wants.

It is certainly ridiculous – when he knows River has no real interest in Tertius, and what is he trying to prove anyway when he knows deep down there’s no hope he can ever be more than her slave? But he’d long come to the understanding that none of his thoughts and feelings to do with the empress were rational. 

By mid-afternoon he has resolved to prove to the empress that he could thrill her just as much as some overly-muscled arrogant royal, and by the time she re-enters her chambers, butterflies have settled in his stomach – both of nerves and excitement.

It isn’t helped by River bursting through the door and slamming it behind her, evidently in no better temper than earlier that day.

“I’m having my entire council executed.” She announces.

Rolling his eyes fondly, the Doctor moves towards her to take her cloak. “That may leave you a little stuck, mistress,” he suggests.

Letting out a heavy sigh, River lets her shoulders drop. “Yes, well. It would certainly leave me satisfied.”

Hanging up her cloak, the Doctor’s heart pounds a bit as he remembers his earlier resolution, and he  clears his throat. “I, uh… I could do that for you,” he makes himself say, the words slipping on his tongue and definitely sounding better in his head than the way they’d come out. _Confident!_ He reminds himself.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder as she wanders across her chambers, the Empress replies, “Do what?”

_Confident._

“Leave you satisfied.” There – that was much better.

Her steps pause, and she spins to face him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

A slow smile comes to her lips as she looks at him, before she shakes her head, seemingly amused but pleased, and turns to continue sauntering off to her bedchamber.

Not to be deterred, the Doctor follows her, hovering in the doorway to watch her rummage through a drawer beneath her dressing table.

“Have you seen my gold head adornment?” She mumbles as she pulls various pieces of jewellery out, each probably worth more than he could imagine.

“Which one?”

“Umm, the smaller one… damn it. I can’t see my people without a crown – where is it!?” She mutters, getting cross.

The Doctor crosses the room to gently take her hands in his and remove them from her drawer. “Here, let me look.” Sure enough, after a moment, he finds it, tucked safely in its box at the back of her drawer where it should be. She sighs and sits to let him put it on, which he does, pinning it carefully into place atop her curls.

“Thank you,” she murmurs when he is done, and rises to her feet.

_Come on Doctor,_ he nags himself. _Do something!_

“Well, are you coming?” Says the empress as she turns to face him, smoothing down her dress

He manages a smirk, silently thanking her for the unintentional opening and lifts a hand to trail the back of his fingers lightly over her cheek. “If you’d like…”

She blinks ,before narrowing her eyes, clearly trying to read him. A slow smile comes to her lips. “Are you… trying to _flirt_ with me, Doctor?” She asks, and her voice is so _amused_ and so, so damn _patronising_ that it makes annoyance and determination pool in his gut. He leans in.

“I’m trying to tell you that…” The laugh River is fighting makes him falter and he swallows. “That I want you… now,” he finishes with as much confidence as he can manage.

She blinks at him, and the smile fades from her face and he sees – he thinks – a flare of interest in her eyes? But then she shakes her head, the smile back. “Well unfortunately sweetie I’m needed down in my throne room so you’ll have to keep it in your toga until later.” And she lifts a hand to pat his cheek before making to move past him – much like she’d done to Tertius earlier – and that realisation makes that determination inside him boil.

He moves quickly, and with two steps he has her backed into the wall with a surprised squeak, his hands braced behind her on either side, effectively trapping her there against him. He looks into her face and she stares back, eyes wide, lips parted and chest heaving.

She looks so utterly, gorgeously shocked that he cannot resist grinding his hips into her.

She moans.

He watches her take a breath, regain her footing, and then open her mouth to speak calmly. “Doctor –“

He cuts her off with a bruising kiss, and gods his heart is _pounding_ in his chest and he’s certain it must be giving away how terrified he really is, but he also feels deliciously thrilled, which only intensifies with every second that passes and she doesn’t rebuke his actions.

When he pulls back, he nips her bottom lip lightly, tugging it between his teeth before he releases and leans back enough to look into her eyes in an attempt to gauge her reaction.

Panting, River stares back up at him for a few seconds before slowly, her lips curve upwards.

She tilts her chin up, tongue caught between her teeth as she smirks at him. “You didn’t like it earlier, did you?” She breathes, voice low and amused.

_What?_

“Like what?”

The smirk widens and she rolls her body against his languidly, drawing a quiet groan from him.

“Watching Tertius and me. Seeing him propose. Seeing him kiss me...”

The Doctor blinks, caught off guard by the question. “I…” He trails off, and then swallows upon realising that she is waiting for an answer. He turns away, tightening his jaw. “Didn’t we establish that last night,” he mumbles.

“Mmm, yes we did,” she purrs, rocking her hips into him again, hands fiddling with the material of his toga. He doesn’t respond, and she lets out a low giggle. “Oh sweetie, it’s really riled you hasn’t it?”

“It’s not funny,” he mumbles, half under his breath.

River stops giggling, and sighs. “I pushed him away, didn’t I?”

He looks up sharply, eyes wide. “That was because… you didn’t have time…?”

Her green eyes break contact with his, and she nods. “Yeah.” She clears her throat, and slips out from between him and the wall, smoothing down her dress. “Well, I need to get down to the throne room. Fetch my cloak please.”

The Doctor will never know where he got his courage – or his insanity from in that moment, but before he’s even had time to think about it once, let alone twice, he’s seized the empress from behind with a growl, arms wrapping round her middle tightly and yanking her back against him as he drops his head to press a heated kiss to the nape of her neck, teeth scraping over her skin and tongue laving as she gasps in his arms.

He is hard instantly as she arches against him, her head dropping back, and he grinds himself against her backside, dragging another gasp from her.

“Tell me you wouldn’t have stopped me if I’d been the one pushing you against that pillar…” He rumbles, voice low and mouth brushing her ear.

He feels her swallows with his lips pressed to her neck, can feel her breathing quicken and her pulse jump and it sends a thrill through him.  She takes a breath. “You’d never have the guts,” she says, her voice laughing but breathless at the same time.

“Really?” Her taunt makes him determined, and he spins them, shoving River forward so her hips are pressed into her table. “Are you sure about that?” he breathes into her ear, and delights in feeling her shudder lightly against him.

She takes another breath, curling her hands round the edge of the table. “What are you going to do now?” She teases.

He falters – very briefly – almost losing his nerves but somehow he manages to gather them and stay focused. She _likes_ this – she does – yes she was teasing him like she was unaffected but he can feel how excited she is, and she hasn’t stopped him yet… sweeping her hair out of the way with a (trembling) hand, he bites down on the side of her neck. “This,” he murmurs into her skin before pushing her down over the table squeezing a gasp of surprise from her, and grinding himself against her again as his hands go for her skirts.

“What do you think you’re –“

“Shh,” he says forcefully, hand on her back to push her back down when she makes to makes to rise, grinding against her again for emphasis, making it quite plain what he intended to do, and gods – she could have him executed for this and his heart pounds as he awaits her reaction…

Amazingly, after a pause, she relaxes against the pressure of his hand and lets the table take her weight.

Biting back a positively giddy laugh, the Doctor moves his hands back to her skirts to continue gathering them up her thighs, and as each further inch of skin is exposed, she still doesn’t stop him. When he reaches her hips, throwing the silk folds in his hands up over her waist, River spreads her legs, and rocks back against him, her wet heat pressing against him through his toga. A strangled moan gets caught in his throat, hands flying to grip her hips as he bucks into her again uncontrollably.

The empress lets out a whimper, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Get inside me,” she demands, voice thick and breathless, and at the command (plea?) the Doctor wastes no further time in pushing his own toga up out of the way and taking himself in hand to guide him into her waiting core.

She quivers around him as he pushes inside her, tight and hot and so, so perfect. His eyes sliding shut he lets his head drop forwards and holds still inside her, taking a moment to let the sensations wash over him. Fingertips of one hand trailing down the empress’s spine, he almost asks if this is okay, but stops himself, biting down on his tongue, and instead grips hold of her hips tightly and pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into her.

She lets out the most delightful cry, so he does it again – and again, thrusting hard and deep, quickly picking up an almost frantic rhythm.

He knows she likes it this way; when she’s wound up enough she will pin him beneath her and ride him fast, his cock sinking almost as deep as he can possibly get into her core with each hard downward bounce, but never before had _he_ been the one fucking her like this. But it seems he most certainly hadn’t been wrong in the assumptions he’d made; River loves this – he can still hardly believe she is letting him do this to her, but it feels _amazing_ – for the first time ever he has the control between them, and it is a giddying sensation.

“Yes,” She breathes out, rocking her hips back against his, spine arched and nails curling into the table. “Yes, there, oh!”

Spreading his feet, the Doctor puts still more force behind his thrusts, leaning down a bit to alter the angle, and hearing the empress shriek in reward. He can feel an end approaching fast for the both of them, and as he pounds into her repeatedly he slips a shaking hand round between her legs and finds the swollen bundle of nerves that makes her tighten around him further still and gasp for air, hips thrusting desperately into his touch.

“Come on,” he finds himself murmuring between pants, “Let go, let me see you… let me feel you River…”

She tightens impossibly around him and lets out a high pitched cry, and fingers slipping over her clit frantically he picks up his pace even more and feels her release, feels her spasm and clutch around him, feels her thighs shudder and watches as her head drops as she cries out, over and over, her whole body rocking and convulsing with her pleasure. He spills inside her just as she is coming down from her orgasm, and as his hips jerk into hers he feels her body jump with aftershocks of pleasure, hears her whimper and gasp until finally both of them are spent and exhausted with nothing left to be dragged from them, and he stills inside her, slumping over her body with hands braced on the table either side of her.

The Doctor drops his face to her neck, panting into her skin, and lets his lips move over her, teeth scraping just lightly as he tries to catch his breath.

“Let me up,” she murmurs after a moment, and the Doctor slowly drags himself upright, feeling her shudder as he slips his flaccid cock out of her and steps back. River pushes herself upright and tugs down her dress as he sets to righting his own clothing. She turns to face him, her eyes flickering up to his before she looks away.

“You…” she blinks, looking down. “You know you’re not supposed to treat me like that.”

He pauses, hands faltering on the tie of his toga. “But… you liked it?”

She bites her lip, and turns her head. “I’m not supposed to like it,” she mumbles.

He hesitates, before stepping forward, reaching out to touch her face. She moves back.

“I’m not supposed to let you behave like that, treat me like that… I don’t let _anybody_ treat me like that,” she says, shaking her head and taking another step back.

“But…” He swallows, worried by the glint of confusion and distress in her eyes. “Mistress,” he says, because he thinks it will help, “I was only doing what I thought you wanted, I… I just want to please you…”

She looks up at him at that. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he nods hurriedly, “It’s all I ever want to do…”

She watches him carefully for a few moments before breaking eye contact, turning her face away again. “Well you’ve made me late,” she snaps, her empress voice back. “Go and fetch my cloak. Now.”

“Yes, mistress,” The Doctor mumbles, ducking his head and hurrying to obey her.

He places it round his shoulders, and she makes to move away as soon as he’s fastened the clasp, but he grasps her hand gently, making her turn to look at him in surprise.

“Did I anger you?” He murmurs, eyes wide and worried.

She stares back at him a moment, eyes equally wide, before tugging her hand from his grasp. “I’m late,” she mumbles, turning and leaving her chambers in a wave of silk and perfume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I figured I've kept you waiting all week I would just post this now rather than trying to write more for it... I mayyy be able to get another one up this weekend that is not a promise - I will try my best though - perhaps I can manage another shortish one if that's alright with all of you. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pretty sure everybody is aware of this, but just in case anybody doesn’t know, Mars was the Roman god of war.

 

River stays out for the rest of the day and the Doctor worries the entire time, and increasingly as the hours tick by, that he had ruined everything between them with his actions.

He’d scared her – he understands that now, not by the way he’d behaved but because she had _liked_ him in control, she’d let herself go almost without hesitation and he realises  that that is not something which River is used to doing. He supposes it’s a good thing – it must mean she trusts him deeply… but he is much too worried to be happy about it over how she is going to react once she’d worked herself into whatever sort of state she no doubt was these hours she was away.

It gets to way past dinner time and she is still not back, and the growling in his stomach wins out against waiting around for her to come back in the hopes of eating with her and he reluctantly  goes down to the kitchens to find himself some food. He gets given some bread for himself and picks up a platter of meats and cheeses too for the empress in case she is hungry when she returns – although by the late hour he suspects she’s eaten elsewhere by now.

When he gets back to her chambers to her chambers he sees her cloak hanging by the door as soon as he walks in and his heart picks up speed a bit in his chest. Setting the plate of food for her and the bread he had been munching on down on the table, he calls out to her, wandering into her bedroom when there is no response.

“Mistress?”

Her bedchamber is empty too, and he is beginning to think she’d simply come back for a change of robe and gone again when he notices the balcony door ajar, and padding quietly outside finds her with her back to him, leaning against the edge on her elbows, quiet and still as she gazes out beyond.

“Mistress?” He says again, softly, and after a pause she turns to him.

When she does not speak he clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck and gesturing awkwardly inside. “I um… I got you some food, if you’re hungry...?”

She shakes her head.

She looks at him quietly, with that penetrating green gaze of hers the makes him want to squirm on the spot, and then she breaks eye contact and clears her throat.

“Come and help me ready for bed,” She says quietly, and moves past him to walk through her chambers and into her bedroom.

Her quietness worries him; if she’d began screaming at him or – or at least thrown something in his direction he would at least know she was angry and where he stood… is she so furious with him she can’t find it within herself to even yell? Or worse – is she upset?

He finds her sitting at her dressing table when he walks tentatively into her room, and the Doctor moves over to her and begins carefully unwinding her crown from her curls with fingers that tremble slightly, and sets it down before working on unpinning the rest of her hair. River is silent as he works, and he can practically _hear_ her thinking, and it makes his nerves rise and rise until he can’t stand it anymore.

He swallows thickly. “I angered you earlier, didn’t I?” He asks quietly. When she stiffens and does not reply he plunges on. “I’m sorry mistress – I didn’t mean to, I only thought – I just wanted – I mean I saw you with Tertius and I thought you –“

“I wouldn’t have let Tertius do that to me,” she cuts him off suddenly.

He swallows again. “I’m sorry, please forgive me – I was out of line and I’m –“

“No.”

He freezes, stomach squeezing in a knot. “N – no?” He rasps out.

There is a pause, before River finally turns to look at him, her face blank and unreadable. “No, I won’t forgive you.”

His heart drops and his throat tightens. “Mistress please –“

“I won’t forgive you because… because I don’t want you to be sorry.”

He falters at that. “Wh – what?”

It is the empress’s turn to swallow, and she looks down, away from his eyes again.

“I… I feel safe with you,” She admits in a small voice, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “And it’s not just because… as a slave you have no power. It’s not that at all. I just… I realised that – that I feel like for the first time I can… let go…”

She sounds unsure and confused and so very unlike the empress it stirs tremendous emotion inside him. He knows she is not just talking about… _intimately_. She means in general. She means she trusts him, and hearing the words fall from her lips is quite astonishing.

Reaching out, he places a hand on her cheek. “You can,” he tells her reverently.

Looking up into his face she stares with wide eyes for a moment before she lets a soft smile come to her lips, and she nods, and then gets to her feet.

“Come, help me get the rest of this off. I want to tell you something.”

He does, undressing her quickly and silently while she pulls her many pieces of gold jewellery off and sets it all down on her dressing table. River turns to him when he lets her dress drop to the floor and quickly unties and pulls off his toga. She moves over to extinguish the torch, leaving just a single candle burning on her dresser, and then she takes his hand in hers, both of them now bare, and tugs him to her bed with her.

“What do you want to tell me?” The Doctor asks her gently as she climbs up next to him on silk sheets and slips beneath them.  

She shakes her head. “Not yet,” she murmurs, before leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

He kisses her back, lifting a hand to cup her face, fingertips dipping into her soft curls and River presses herself against him with a moan as they both fall back to the bed.

She strokes him to hardness while they kiss slow and deep, and then slips her leg over his hip and reaches between them to guide him into her. Their hips move rhythmically and River’s face is difficult to read as she gazes at him quietly in the dark, fingertips caressing his skin and then clutching harder when her pleasure intensifies, finally curling into him as her body shudders, brow furrowing and mouth open with quiet gasps as she reaches her climax. She moves through her orgasm, and still after, until he too can hold out no longer and spills inside her with a desperate groan pressed into her sweat-dampened neck.

Afterwards she sighs softly in contentment, letting him slip out of her and manoeuvring him onto his back so she can curl comfortably into him, head pillowed on his chest.

The Doctor draws gentle patterns on her arm with his fingertips, lying quietly with her for a long time listening to her breathing slow again and then begin to even out. Assuming she is drifting into sleep he gives a quiet sigh, resigning himself to having to wait to hear whatever it is she wanted to say when suddenly in the quiet, she begins to talk.

“I was taken from my parents when I was very young,” her soft voice startles him, as do the words, and he shifts against her, twisting his neck to try and look down at her, but River keeps her face turned away, cheek pillowed on his chest so he can see only the top of her mass of curls.

He clears his throat. “Taken… by who?” He asks as gently as he can, afraid to startle her out of this sudden openness.

He feels her swallow against him. “They were… a – a cult, I suppose you would call them. Worshipers of Mars… there was a man, Faustus, he claimed to be chosen as a champion by the God himself. But his mother, Kovarian was the worst. She was a high priestess – or that’s what she called herself. There wasn’t many others when I first – first was with them, but it grew over time. Enormously.”

She falls quiet and the Doctor takes this information in, trying to make sense of it. “So… they took you to make you one of them…?”

She shifts against him. “A little more than that. They had... some stupid prophecy. Kovarian claimed Mars had spoken to her, and told her that a female child would be found with intelligence and bravery like none other on earth. And that she would become their champion, and be the key to their gaining control.”

“Over Rome?”

“Over everywhere.”

“And… they thought it was you?”

She nods. “My father was a proud man... or so I was told - a centurion. Apparently he used to boast often to the other men of his daughters superhuman like intelligence and… well it got round to the wrong people; some of the cult were in the royal army.”

She takes a pause, and he feels her take a breath that shudders slightly before she takes another that is steady once again. “Anyway. They sent men who came and broke into my house, my mother hid me and… when she wouldn’t tell them where I was they killed her.” She speaks the words quickly, and void of feeling as he lays listening to her in horror. “Then they left, and I hid there for… I don’t know how long – hours - until Kovarian herself came, and Faustus, and told me my father had been killed too and I must come with them, they would protect me and look after me. I never knew it was them who sent the men to kill my parents in the first place until many years later.”

His chest tight and burning, the Doctor can only hold River close in stunned silence.

“They… they tested me, of course, to make sure I was – _the one_ ,” she speaks the word with some disgust. “They told me I was special, that I was destined to rule and the emperor knew and had sent the men to kill me. They raised me, moulded me into what they needed. I won't… go into detail about what my training involved those years of my childhood.. I'm not sure your delicate senses could handle it," she says with a hint of a laugh in her voice that he knows is forced to cover the pain the memories must really give her. He swallows hard.

“If you need to talk about it River, then I’m –“

“No,” she cuts him off quickly, and he realises that perhaps it's not his senses she's trying to protect after all. He holds her tightly and waits for her to continue. She clears her throat. 

“When I was fifteen I had a miscarriage.” The Doctor inhales sharply at that.

“You…” He thinks, reads between her lines. “Faustus?”

She pauses before nodding. “We had an attack planned and I told them I was with child, but they still made me go into war… I bled out on the battlefield; I nearly died that day.”

His eyes sting with tears.

“Fifteen… “ He manages with a slightly choked voice. “That was the year you took over the empire wasn’t it?”

She nods again. “Later the same year. When Kovarian found me laying in my own blood she was furious with me, screaming about how if I’d died they would have wasted all these years raising and training me and I realised something that day… I realised that I was nothing to them, not even a person - I was just a device; a tool… things fell into place and I worked out that it had been them all along. All of it.” She takes a deep shuddering breath and the Doctor smooths a hand gently and soothingly over her arm, heart aching for her.

“That night was the last time I ever cried. They thought they could manipulate me and use me – I realised that even when I was empress I wouldn’t be in control, it would be them.”

She falls silent and he watches her carefully, waiting for her to continue. When she doesn’t he clears his throat. “What happened to them?” he nudges gently.

She turns her head up to his finally, and smiles. “I killed them.”

“Oh.”

Sometimes he forgets, when he is laying in her arms in a warm dark room and she is curled into him like a lover – she isn’t; she’s a killer.

Obviously having sensed the stiffening of her frame, River snorts lightly as if guessing his exact thoughts – she probably has done. She seems to be able to read him in a way that’s sometimes frightening in its accuracy.

“Faustus was easy, I killed him first and took great pleasure in it.”

He stares down at her in astonishment. “Even though you were lovers?”

She snorts, almost in disgust. “We weren’t lovers.”

“But you - … oh.” His chest aches. “Oh, River…”

She shrugs. “I never knew any different. Anyway, I went to his bed naked one night, climbed astride him and sunk my knife straight into his heart.”

The Doctor flinches and River glances up at him. “Sorry.”

He turns his head, blinking in surprise at the word, to find it earnest as she gazes back at him softly. He clears his throat. “It’s alright.”

She sighs. “I’ll spare you the details of how I did away with Kovarian then; it was even less prettier.” She clears her throat. “Nobody even questioned their disappearance; we had an army by then, and my authority over them had already been established by them – with punishments for those who questioned it severe enough that nobody ever dared try again. Anyway; they wanted me in power too. I invaded three months later and took the throne by myself.”

The Doctor shakes his head in disbelief as he listens to her story.

“Did you think about… you know – _not_ doing that, once you’d killed them? I mean – you were free, did you not consider simply leaving that life and finding your own?”

There is a pause, before River leans up on an elbow to look down at him, blinking. “I _am_ free… I _rule_ this empire,” She says, a slight frown of bemusement on her face. “I had control of an entire army in the palm of my hands, why on earth would I consider doing anything else?” Huffing slightly, she lays back down. “I made a promise to myself that night I made my decision – that I would never ever let anybody control me again. That I would show them – and, and _Mars_ if he even really exists – that I am nobody’s damn tool, and they will bow down to and fear _me_.”

 He swallows at the sheer determination in her voice and lethal edge to her words. It sends a chill down his spine. Then he becomes aware of her warm body curled into his, laying quiet and content in his arms, remembers her leg over his hip  when they’d first climbed into bed, her hands gentle on his body, sighs soft as they spilled from her lips and… he struggles to fit the two women together. The calm waters that rock and caress him and the stormy seas that drown and bring terror, ripping men apart. River Song, like the ocean, is both. And although he knows damn well he would be wise to remember that she could drown him in a second he can’t bring himself to get out of the water. He doesn’t want to. Especially not now he knows the reason behind the way she is.

It’s not her fault, essentially. She was _made_ into a killer, she didn’t become this way of her own choice. She knew no other way; no other life. She’s never known love, or kindness or care… only bloodshed and force and power. She’s clearly never known trust – at least certainly not since she’d discovered the truth about her captors… and the fact that she is showing it to him tonight, by telling him this means so very, very much.   

It is a strange and probably slightly ridiculous feeling when he is her slave and she is mistress but he is overcome with the overwhelming desire to save her.

“So…” River speaks suddenly into the quiet that has fallen between them in the aftermath of her story, looking up at him with a small smile. “What’s your real name?”

Eyes widening, the Doctor swallows and looks away. “I.. I uh, I told you,” he mumbles. “I don’t remember – I’ve gone by Doctor for as long as I know.”

When he risks a glance at her he sees her roll her eyes. “Yeah, not buying it.” She frowns. “I told you my secret; it’s your turn.”

Looking down as his hand traces patterns on her arm, he lets out a sigh.

“Why don’t you use it?” She presses. “Are you… - you’re not wanted for some dreadful crime are you?” She teases. “Did you murder your country’s ruler?”

“Of course not,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as she giggles.

“Well – why then?”

He looks away from her eyes, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve… never told anyone…” he mumbles and when she doesn’t reply and he glances back up he finds her frowning at him.

“I told you my secret,” she says again quietly.

Closing his eyes tightly, he sighs. Yes, she had. And that had taken a huge amount of trust – something River does not display easily. He owes it to her to show the same in return.

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he leans forward, and whispers it in her ear.

When he pulls back to look at her she is smiling brightly. “It’s a great name.”

He shrugs. “I prefer the Doctor.”

Sighing, River lifts a hand to smooth his fringe from his face. “Doctor it is then,” she says softly.

He smiles back, and something occurs to him. “What about… what about your name?”

She blinks. “What about it?”

“Was it always River Song? Or is that the name they gave you when you were taken?”

She pauses before answering. “No… it wasn’t. And no – they didn’t give it to me. Why?” She frowns at him.

He shrugs. “It’s just… an unusual name. I wondered if they picked it out, that’s all.”

She shakes her head. “I changed it myself. When I killed Kovarian and Faustus. I didn’t want to be… in _any_ way theirs anymore, I was going to be a different person – my own person.”

He nods. “What was it before?”

She sighs, dropping her head back down. “It was Melody. Melody Pond.”

“Melody…” He swirls the name around on his tongue. “It’s pretty.”

“Hm,” she comments. “Pretty wasn’t really going to install fear into my enemies.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, settling back down against his pillows. “Melody Pond… River Song… Melody… Song – River…” He murmurs to himself, and then suddenly breaks out into a grin. “Oh – that’s clever!”

She gives a small smirk and shrugs. “I thought so.”

She burrows a little bit further into his chest, inching that bit closer still to settle against him with a sigh, her small warm hand smoothing down over his abdomen beneath the blanket draped over them.

He takes a moment again to think over everything she’d told him, still with a sense of awe and great empathy for her and – he supposes a little bit of thrill that she’d opened up to him so much. She’d had an awful, tragic and traumatising childhood… it was a wonder she’d come out the way she had at all – any less a person would have gone mad from it - whereas River had just found strength.

“Do you remember your parents at all?” He asks her gently.

She shakes her head. “Not really, no. I remember… flashes of red. Hair – red hair. Which – it must be a false memory; no Roman has red hair. But my father’s name – I overheard it once when I was a bit older. Roranicus.” She smiles.

The Doctor freezes. “…Rory.”

She lifts her head to look up at him. “What?”

“I…” With wide eyes, he glances down at her. “Uh – nothing.” He clears his throat. “I’ve heard it shortened that way before, that’s all.”

“Oh.” She rests her head again, and after a moment, he feels her smile against his skin. “Rory. It’s… it holds a sense of familiarity… I think… I think perhaps my mother used to call him that.”

His insides ice cold, the Doctor places a hand gently atop her curls in the darkened room and nods, throat dry.

“I’m sure she did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took all week AND its a short chapter but... kind of crucial one - and hence it was actually really really difficult to write which is why its taken a bit longer. Like I’ve known what river’s backstory is from the start and ive had it jotted down in notes so assumed I'd speed through it but it was actually very difficult to finally put it into words, idk. I didn't want to make it too detailed and dark but i wanted to get across how terrible it was... and im not sure I've succeeded with that blahh. her childhood was bad okay? hahaa. jdakjf. I don't know how i feel about how this came out, but i'm just going to stop looking at it now and just post it lol. I'd appreciate your thoughts as always my darlings! :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless your hearts. You don't know how much the support you are giving me for this story means. I JUST LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. :')

After a sleepless night, the Doctor stands behind River’s throne the next morning, watching silently as Tertius and his party enter the hall much like the way they had just a few days ago. He thinks these staged formalities are all a little silly really, but he supposes he’d rather River be bidding him goodbye like this than in private.

Tertius strolls up to the front, and stops beneath her throne, looking up at the empress with a smirk before he offers her a grand bow.

“Your most gracious majesty.”

River smiles, and stands from her throne, walking down the three steps to stop in front of him where she looks up into his eyes and smiles wider.

“It was… truly a _pleasure_ meeting you, Tertius,” She purrs. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Smirking back, Tertius lifts a hand to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “As do I, your highness.”

Placing her hands on his chest, River tilts her head up to accept the kiss he bestows upon her mouth, deep and passionate, and in the Doctor’s opinion rather too amorous for a public display – but then he remembers just where he is and – he shudders – that party a couple of nights ago and realises that nobody here was going to be phased by an enthusiastic kiss. Still he eyes Tertius’s hand on the empress’s behind and bites his tongue in displeasure.

The break apart – finally, Tertius clinging to her just a bit longer before she carefully extracts herself from his grasp. “I’ll be thinking of you,” she says.

“My heart will ache for you every moment we are apart,” he murmurs to her, and she gives him a final smile before turning away.

With one last bow to her and a nod from River, Tertius and his party turn and stride from her hall. Once they are gone and River has dismissed the rest of her assembly and sent her chancellors scurrying off with a scroll full of notes, she rises, and walks from the empty hall with the Doctor on her heels, rattling off her busy agenda for the rest of the day.

She stops short in the hallway just outside. “Um – damn it I just remembered something I didn’t tell Quintus,” she mutters, and turns to the Doctor. “Fetch me some lunch will you? I’m famished and it looks like I’ll be in council all afternoon… I’ll meet you upstairs once I’ve seen to this.”

He bows his head at her request, but as she turns to leave, he catches her wrist.

Turning back, she raises her eyebrows at him. “What is it?”

The Doctor clears his throat, and placing a hand on his heart forces the most serious expression he can muster. “My heart will ache for you every moment we are apart.”

She breaks into a grin, which she tries to hide, shaking her head as she pulls from his grasp and turns away with a badly stifled snort.  “Oh stop it.”

The Doctor grins. “Do women ever fall for those lines?”

“Not this one,” she says, amused.

He catches her wrist once more before she can leave. “Are you sure?” He murmurs quietly, suddenly serious.

She blinks at him. “What do you mean am I sure?”

“You’re… a very convincing actress.”

She sighs, and rolls her eyes. “Yes. I am.” She tilts her head at him then, and steps closer, a smile coming back to her lips as she lifts a hand to toy with the material of his toga. “I really _do_ bring out your jealous side, don’t I sweetie?” She murmurs, voice suddenly low and playful.

He huffs and looks away from her eyes. “I’m not _jealous_ ,” he mumbles. “I just – I just want to be sure you know what you’re doing.”

“With Tertius?”

He nods and watches a smirk come to her lips.

“I’m playing a game, is what I’m doing. It’s called ‘divide and conquer’, sweetie – divide a man’s heart from his senses – or, maybe not quite his heart, I’m not sure he has one of those, but certainly…” She slips a hand down to give the Doctor a pointed squeeze through his toga to make sure he catches her drift. A grunt leaves his lips, hips jumping uncontrollably beneath her touch. “Divide the two and the conquering is easy.” She smirks, and with once more squeeze, pulls away . She winks. “I’ll see you upstairs in a bit.”

As she slips away, the Doctor lets his head drop, eyes falling to the problem the empress had now left him with. He sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his head – he supposes that had been entirely his fault.  

\--

He has only just got back from the kitchens a short while after and got River’s food set out on the table before sitting down to eat his own meal when the empress bursts through the door of her chambers, opening it with such force that it swings round and slams into the wall before she throws it shut with another slam as she stalks inside.

The Doctor flies to his feet in alarm. “Mistress!?”

“You!” She points a finger at him. “Get my armour ready, we’re riding out _today_ and I’m taking this damn empire,” She announces, voice seething with fury and a hint of panic as she hurls her cloak off.

“ _What_!?” He gasps, hurrying to her side and scooping her cloak off the floor to hang it up. “Today!?”

“Yes,” she snaps.

“But - what about Tertius!?”

“Tertius is dead.”

He stops and looks at her. “What?”

Whirling to face him, she throws a hand up in the air. “He heard me earlier – he saw us in the corridor, heard everything I said to you – goddamnit this is all your fault!”

The Doctor pales. “Oh gods…”

“Gods is right!” She fumes. “The bastard followed me and cornered me with a knife to my throat and told me the only way out was if I agreed to marry him right then, hand over all that I own to him and take a backseat as his _wife_.” She scoffs. “Foolish man.”

He stares at her, eyes wide. “How did…” he shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says, deciding he doesn’t want to know.

“His party are set to ride back _today,”_ She continues, hauling her armour out of her cupboard and throwing it to the floor, “And they’re going to realise pretty damn soon that Tertius won’t be joining them. A boy has already ridden ahead so it’s too late to try and delay them; they will be expected back home in the three days it takes to ride there. We need to attack _now_ , we leave today. Damnit all, we’re not ready for this! My army is still low on numbers since the last battle!”

He winces as her helmet hits the marble floor with a loud clang.

“Sort all this out,” she demands, slamming the cupboard door shut. “I’m going to change.”

He moves quickly to her pile of armour as she stalks off, fuming, and when she re-emerges in her battle tunic he has it all laid out ready.

She grabs the boots and sits to hauls them on, the Doctor silently dropping to his knees to lace them for her, knowing better by now than to open his mouth when she’s in a mood like this. She stands when he’s done, and gestures to the rest. “Bring all that down with you when you come with my bag. I need at least a week’s worth of things. And your own stuff.”

He falters at that, eyes snapping to hers in alarm. “Mine?”

“Yes,” she says curtly, “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” He gasps in alarm. “But - I’m – I don’t –“

“No!” She snaps. “You are coming, you don’t get a choice this time Doctor – this is as much your fault as mine that it’s happening when we’re so damn unprepared – I need you with me.”

“But I –“

“Pack your things. Bring your journals, charts, maps, everything. We’ve got quite some planning to do before we arrive, don’t be expecting to get any sleep on this journey.”

She slams the door shut hard behind her.

\--

When he hurries down to the palace courtyard laden down with Rivers – and his own – things, two slave boys trailing behind with the stuff he couldn’t manage by himself, River is pacing in front of her troops, briefing them in a loud, determined voice.

“If we move out now and we move fast we will still catch them unaware. But we are low on numbers and have no idea what sort of defence they are going to have. This will not be easy but we _will not fail!_ ”

Her determined words are met with cheers and hollers and the banging of spears on the ground, the horses stirring at the noise and shuffling about restlessly.

She raises a hand and the men fall silent. “Where’s my armour?” She turns, and eyes falling on the Doctor hovering near the steps, she motions him over. He hurries to her, and setting their things down, quickly begins buckling her into her armour with the help of the two boys as River calls for her horse.

Once she’s suited up, she swings up into her saddle, accepting her sword from Quintus who hovers nearby to hand it to her, and she motions to the Doctor. “Bring another horse.”

Quintus looks at the Doctor, and back and River, hesitating.

“The… you’re bringing your slave, highness?”

“Yes,” River snaps. “He’s a doctor, he’ll be useful. And he reads charts.”

“I – oh, well –“

“A horse I said!” She demands, “Now!”

They have to wait another few minutes until one is brought forwards, and taking the reins with a nod of thanks, the Doctor clambers shakily up into the saddle before River’s loud strong voice yells out an order for her army to move out.

\--

They ride well into the evening that day, and it has been so long since the Doctor has been in the saddle he is sore and aching all over by the time they dismount where River decides they will camp for the night. Not knowing what to do among the busyness of soldiers setting up their tents and lighting fires for the night, the Doctor meanders his way through them until he finds the empress, barking orders at three men who are assembling up her tent. It is huge, four times the size of the soldier’s tents shared by three men, and as large probably as her entire bedchamber back at the palace. He wonders if the five horses he rode behind at the back of the army with packs on their backs carried just this structure.

Walking round the back, he tethers his horse next to hers and unsaddles it, finding it some water and feed, and by the time he gets back the tent is set up and the soldiers and River nowhere in sight. He pulls back the flap at the front and pokes his head inside.

“Mistress?”

She is sitting on a blanket spread out of the grassy floor, armour discarded and maps and charts already spread out all around her. Glancing up, she waves him in, and when he drops to his knees next to her, she moves the platter of food she has beside her to the floor between them.

“We have two nights to plan an attack on a city I know nothing about.” She chucks a rolled up map at him. “Get started.”

They work in silence for at least an hour, both pouring over charts and maps, writing down figures and only occasionally glancing at each other’s scribbling. He can feel the resentment bristling from her and he knows she is holding him entirely responsible for this – and he supposes, fairly enough. He keeps quiet and works hard, forcing himself not to think about the fact that he was drawing up the best way to invade an unsuspecting city.

Finally, River clears her throat and takes a long drink from her goblet of wine before letting out a tired sigh. “Let me see,” she says, plucking his parchment from his hands and peering down at it with a frown of concentration.

“This is good,” she finally nods. “I’d much the same sort of things but I hadn’t worked out these figures yet.” She taps at the paper. “They’re good – optimistic, but I think a possibility. Of course this we need to wait until we get there to find out… not that we’re going to have time to properly scout everything out.” She lets out a frustrated huff and shakes her head. “I’d never normally force an attack like this with so little preparation. I would have had camp set up nearby at least a fortnight beforehand and scouted the entire area thoroughly three times over. But damnit there isn’t _time_ for anything. “

He hangs his head guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I know it’s my fault.”

She glances up at him and looks a moment before she lets out another sigh, a heavy, exhausted sounding one. “It’s my fault too,” she admits, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have said those things there, anyone could’ve been around. Damnit… I should have been aware that he was watching us, my senses are sharper than that. Stupid. It was foolish.”

“No,” the Doctor finds himself saying, immediately moving his hand to cover hers. “It was my fault. And I’m sorry.”

Her eyes finds his and she searches them before she nods, slowly. “Come on then,” she says, pulling her hand from beneath his and going back to the maps. “Let’s pull these together and see what we’ve got to work with.”

\--

“Oh this is brilliant,” River exclaims a little while later, eyes bright and excited as she writes down the plan they’d come up with. “It obviously depends on us being able to spare enough men to work it and if we can _get it_ to work but – yes, it’s fantastic,” she grins as she jots notes down by the diagram of the flamethrower he’d helped her design. “They won’t know what hit them.”

The Doctor cannot share her glee in being part of inventing an instrument of destruction.

He shakes his head, eyes pained. “So many people will die.”

Glancing up, River shrugs. “It’s war, sweetie.”

“Well… I don’t like it,” he mumbles, and the empress purses her lips and does not reply.

It is very, very late by the time they are done, and the Doctor prepares himself for a long, painful day’s riding tomorrow after what will inevitably be just a few hours’ sleep tonight.

They bundle themselves up in the pile of blankets and cushions Rivers has laid out on the floor as a makeshift bed, and he finds it surprisingly comfortable when he settles down into it, grateful of the softness and warmth that soothes his aching body. He feels himself finally relaxing that day, his eyes sliding closed.

“Doctor?” River’s voice breaks the quiet after a few minutes of it settling over them.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He rolls to face her, a smile on his lips. “You can ask me anything you want _, mistress_ ,” he stresses the word and she rolls her eyes.

“No but – I mean seriously.” She says, rolling onto her own side to face him too. “Honestly.”

Sobering, he nods. “Of course.”

“Why…” She looks down, fiddling with the blanket draped over them. “Why do you have such an aversion to warfare?”

Letting her question sink in, the Doctor lays quiet for a moment, considering the best way to answer it. How can she even ask that? Is the first response that comes to mind but he firmly reminds himself what she has been through and the way she was brought up and hence why she genuinely, honestly doesn’t understand why he would have such a problem with something that has been a way of life for her. He tries to think of the best and gentlest way he can try and make her understand.

“I’ve experienced the… the terror of it first hand, River,” He says softly, finally settling for simply telling her the blunt truth of his experience. “The horror, the pain. When your army invaded my town all I could hear was the screams of children – and mothers, the cries of their husbands… we didn’t have a hope of fighting back, it wasn’t even a battle; it was a slaughter.”

“My men never killed women or children,” she snaps, immediately on the defensive, “They were under strict orders and –“

“But they killed their husbands, their fathers… or took them from them, burnt down their homes…” He swallows hard, tears stinging behind his eyes at the memories of a day he’d tried so very hard to block out of his mind – and certainly never think about the fact that it was the women in his arms right now who’d caused it to happen.

He hears the empress swallow and a stiff pause stretches out. “Did… you have family there?” She finally asks, voice quiet and small.

He shakes his head. “Not me, no. My family… have been gone a long time now.”

“So you don’t have anyone to miss back home,” she says, sounding relieved, as if assuring herself it’s fine.

“I don’t. But many of the other men that were taken do.”

She frowns, eyes fixed on the blanket. “Well I don’t care about them,” she says.

He stares at her, heart aching, struggling to understand how her mind works.

She very clearly is not completely stripped of all emotion and feeling – there were certainly flickers of empathy in her eyes when she worried for a moment that he was hurting in some way – but how can she feel absolutely nothing for the thousands of innocent lives she’s destroyed?

“You should,” he whispers.

“Why?” She snaps her eyes up to his. “Things happen to people – it’s the way the world works. Some people are strong and some are weak, and the weaker ones suffer.”

“But you _make_ those things happen, River, you –“

“Don’t forget it happened to me too,” she snaps angrily, cutting him off. “I was taken from my family, remember? It’s life – bad things happen.”

“But –“

She rolls from him, abruptly cutting him off again. “You’re going to make me angry.”

He sighs, dropping his head and letting his eyes slide closed. After a moment he swallows, and takes a deep breath, turning to the empress and placing as soothing a hand as he can manage on her shoulder.

“You know how it feels,” he says, voice soft. “You know that pain… you can prevent it from happening to other people. You don’t _have_ to be _this_ ,” his voice is quieter, and almost begging now. “You don’t have to – to reap this path of destruction on the world, you can be a peaceful ruler; a kind one, settle with what you have - protect people rather than destroy. River, _please…_ ”

She is silent a long time after his words, stiff and still beneath his hand and – the Doctor hardly dares to breathe, hope filling him as he watches her anxiously. She’s thinking – she’s really thinking over his words… has he finally broken through to her?

After a long stretch of silence, she finally speaks. “I don’t.”

He blinks, trying to make sense of the short proclamation. “Don’t what?”

“I don’t know how it feels; I don’t remember.”

He closes his eyes in frustration.

“All I know is that my pain made me what I am today Doctor; it made me strong.”

He doesn’t answer that, choosing instead to let the silence stretch out between them. Removing his hand from her shoulder and rolling away he lets out a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

And as he lays next to the empress in the dark tent, he squeezes his eyes shut against memories he had done such a good job of – not forgetting, never – but certainly refraining from thinking of for all of these months. They fill his mind now; screams and cries, fire and crashes and the clanging of swords, the sickening noise of blades smashing through human flesh and bone…

Anguished, he opens his eyes again, turning to look at the figure beside him, filled with pain over how she can be so… uncaring about what she’d done.

He swallows. “Can I ask you something?” He rasps into the quiet, using her own words.

There is a pause before River rolls once again to face him. “What?”

He searches her face, looking for answers he isn’t sure even exist in her eyes. “Why did you invade my land?”

She frowns at the question, and looks right back at him for a moment before she shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

“No, but – why Britannia? Why… why my town? It’s not near Rome, we were no threat to you, it’s a simple land, we had nothing you didn’t have… there are many more countries richer and closer to this one that would make more sense to take first…”

River blinks at that, as if surprised by the question of why – as if it had never occurred to her. She bites her lip, looking down from his eyes and appearing to be in deep thought for a moment.

After a minute she shifts, and lets out a sigh. “Honestly… it was what… _they_ had always planned for me. I mean – it had been their plan to take it straight after this empire was mine, but once I was in control I didn’t see any reason to rush that, instead I focused on the surrounding countries, on Rome, making my empire stronger… but the plans were always there, and… I guess it had been so drilled into me growing up that it was niggling at the back of my mind constantly.” She shrugs. “I had the resources so I just did it in the end. I didn’t go myself, I just sent an army out. It’s another piece of the map I now own anyway, and it’s a good base to have.” She raises her eyes to his with a smile. A _smile_. “I’m building over there did you know? Real buildings – I’m told you were all living in little stick and mud houses like savages. In time, your people will be glad of my leadership.”

He frowns, shifting uncomfortably. “I had a real house,” he mumbles, a little insulted.

River rolls her eyes. “Not like anything you’ve seen over here though, was it?”

“It was perfectly fine for me.”

She lets out a sigh, and then inches over to him, sliding her hand over his abdomen to rest on his side as she curls herself into him. “Let’s not speak of this anymore.” She says, settling down, and that is the end of their conversation.

He winds an arm round her  and rests a hand over her arm because with her draped over him like this it’s… habit now, he supposes. But as he lays in the quiet dark tent his mind whirls and whirls, filled with everything that had just transpired between them along with the revelations River had made to him the night before.

Last night he’d been mostly utterly confused; he’d tried to piece together what he had but had come up with too many possibilities and no way of knowing anything for certain, wondering in the end if, perhaps he was being utterly ridiculous. There must be a thousand men with the name Roranicus and certainly more than one red-headed woman on the planet. (But not in Rome? His mind had argued that theory) He’d had a restless night.

But now things were… falling together. And it was all a little overwhelming.

There was one thing he was certain of: He couldn’t tell her. He could not tell her he knew what she was – and _why_ she was, and who _he_ was because… it was a very high probability that she would see him as a threat. She would certainly think he’d known all along, and the Doctor had no intention of gambling his life on the hopes that River’s attachment to him now would override a lifetime’s worth of training.

He feels the empress’s breathing even out and glances down at the mass of curls draped over his chest and swallows hard, brushing a curl from her forehead with a gentle, tender touch of his fingertips.

This was never meant to happen, he realises. He and she were never, ever meant to be like this.


	21. Chapter 21

 

Feeling like death when River wakes him at dawn, the Doctor drags himself up and gets him, her, and their two horses fed and ready for a long day’s riding. By the time her tent is packed away and they leave early morning he is already exhausted, and quickly finds he’d been right in his prediction that it was going to be a long, hard, painful day in the saddle.

The empress pushes them for speed, allowing the army to stop only twice that day for short periods, until they finally dismount and set up camp at dusk. The evening is spent much the same way as the last; sitting on the floor in River’s tent amongst a sea of battle plans until the early hours of the morning where they fall into River’s pile of blankets and straight into an exhausted sleep.

The following day, they finally reach the location he and the empress had decided would be best to station a camp, and by dusk they are settled there. River’s tent has been erected again, and this time a wagon unloaded containing a table and chairs and various other things for her convenience and comfort. By the time the men are done, River’s vast lavish tent is almost as comfortable inside as her chambers. And to think he’d been under the illusion she spent her time away at battle sleeping on the muddy ground in a space just small enough for a fur pelt. He should have known better.

After the Doctor shares a meal with her, she gathers her generals in her tent that night and they sit round her table with all of hers and the Doctor’s plans and maps laid out so she can go over them with them.

Standing behind the empress, it quickly becomes apparent to the Doctor that her generals are used to having… a little more say in their battle plans.

“You’ve certainly been busy, my lady,” Antonius says carefully, sharing a glance with the others, and River waves a hand behind her. “My slave was some help. Now…” As River launches into instructions, the Doctor stares at the floor, shifting uncomfortably as the three other sets of eyes in the room land on him, scrutinising him for a moment before turning their attention back to the empress and her plans.

They discuss and debate, altering some minor things, but with River mostly refusing to budge on her decisions, which her generals seem displeased about, although of course, they do not argue too much.

She decides to split her troops up, which was something her and the Doctor had discussed the possibility of doing, and with the three other men she works out where each will station their troops ready for her signal to attack.

“Gallus, you can use this pass here to get your position. It’s a long way around through a wooded area but that should provide you with good cover at least.” The Doctor tilts his head at the place River is pointing to on the map, and immediately notices a hole in her considerations.

He clears his throat behind her. River carries on talking, taking no notice, and so he does so again, a little louder and more pointedly.

River turns her head, narrowed green eyes landing on his. “Something in your throat, slave?” She says sharply.

“Um… your highness, may I just…?”

She looks at him a moment before nodding once, and feeling relieved he moves forward to lean over the table.

“The city likely has a watch tower this side,” he points at the map as he talks. “There’s a pass through the forest and a road leading right past so it’s unlikely they would leave themselves open here. I fear if you send men that way you could alert them to your presence long before you plan to attack.”

Leaning over the table, River curses. “Damn, you’re right, that could well be a possibility. Okay, forget that. Gallus, you go through the other way like we first discussed.”

“You’re going to listen to a slave?” It’s Romulus speaking up suddenly, his voice filled with disgust as he looks at her incredulously.

River’s green eyes snap to his, flashing angrily. “That slave’s got twice the brain you have so shut your mouth Romulus,” she growls.

“But highness,” he scoffs, “He’s a lowly _slave_ – what could he possibly know about –“

“Don’t question my decisions!” River barks, slamming her hand down on the table so hard she makes all others in the tent jump.

A stiff silence follows her words, and the Doctor shuffles uncomfortably behind her, eyes on the floor as he feels several other sets on him again.

Romulus averts his eyes. “Apologies, highness.”

River glares at him sharply a moment before clearing her throat and continuing. “So, Gallus, you know where you’re to approach and position your men?”

“Yes highness.”

“Good. Antonius?”

The go on for another hour or so, finalising everything for tomorrow until River is satisfied enough to call it a night.

Dismissing her men, she snaps her fingers at the Doctor, who moves forward to help her gather up the charts laid out across the table as her men file out.

He notices Romulus hanging back, and when the flap of her tent closes behind the others, the general moves over to the empress, stepping up behind her and  settling his hands on her hips. River pauses what she is doing, lifting her head as he brings his mouth to her ear and speaks to her in a low voice.

“I just wanted to apologise if I angered you, your highness. It was never my intention.”

River nods once. “Apology accepted.”

“I was wondering if you might…” The Doctor notices him pull River back against him and struggles to keep his eyes averted, hands shaking as he gathers papers on the table. “Allow me to make it up to you…” Romulus bends his head to nuzzle River’s hair aside and drop a kiss to her shoulder. “Very,” he purrs, placing another kiss on her neck, “sweetly…”

River’s eyes lock with the Doctor’s across the table for a suspended second before she shrugs her shoulders, twisting out of Romulus’s hold. “Not tonight general.” She turns towards him, placing a hand on his arm and giving him a gentle push in the direction of the exit. “We all need to get some rest for tomorrow. Go and sleep.”

He sighs, eyeing her mournfully as he backs off. “Very well. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “I won’t.”

Romulus leaves the tent, pulling the flap back into place behind him, and River’s eyes find the Doctor’s across the table again. She clears her throat, quickly breaking the glance. “Can you finish tidying this up?” She says quietly, moving away. “I’m going to ready for bed.”

He nods, hiding a pleased smile as she moves past him. “Of course, mistress.”

When he’s finished and he strips down and joins the empress in her pile of fur pelts and blankets, she turns to him, tucking herself immediately into his arms and settling down with a heavy sigh. He pulls her against him, stroking a hand down her bare form to settle it in the small of her back and pull her flush to him. He lets his palm smooth over her soft warm skin and round to cup her hip before he strokes it up her side and brushes a breast with his thumb, flicking at her nipple and letting out a soft groan.

The empress wriggles in his hold. “What are you doing?” She mumbles.

The Doctor shifts beneath her, turning his body enough for her to feel the press of his arousal against her thigh. He buries his nose in her curls. “Want you,” he whispers.

He can feel River’s heart rate quicken against his chest, but she shifts her leg away, making a noise of discontent. “I need to rest.”

He trails his fingers down over her back until they reach her backside and he cups it in his hand, squeezing gently. A noise leaves the empress’s mouth and she arches into him just enough for him to know she is affected, and he rolls her quickly then, moving over her.

“Doctor,” she gasps, and then pushes at his chest meekly, turning her head when he leans in to kiss her. “Stop it, I need to sleep, I have to be rested tomorrow,” she grumbles the protest although her hands have settled on his chest and her thighs have slid apart easily at his nudging them with a knee.

“Please, let me,” he murmurs, kissing her neck, hands sliding up and down her sides. “It’ll help you relax…”

She lets out a huff but her legs are sliding up to cradle his hips and he just _wants her_ so much, wants to sink inside her perfect warm body, to revel in the fact that he can have her when her _general_ can’t.

As River rocks her hips a little beneath him, he slips a hand in between their bodies to slide long fingers through soft folds he finds delightfully slick, drawing a gasp from her, and a sharp jerk of her hips.

She lets out a breath that sounds half like another huff, sliding her arms round his back, nails digging in.

“How do you do this to me?” She mumbles, and he grins into her hair and moves his fingers away to guide his cock to her entrance and sink inside her.

He likes being on top; being in control of their movements and pace, and he’s noticed that the empress is letting him more and more often lately. She seems to like it too, and the fact that she lets him have control like this, no matter if it’s just between the sheets, gives him a little thrill each time.

Nuzzling his nose past her curls, he kisses her neck, knowing well the spot that makes her tilt her head and sigh, arching beneath him. Her breasts press against his chest and she moans softly, hips rising to meet his and fingers gripping his back tightly.

As he picks his speed up a little, she lifts her leg higher and curls it round his back, altering his angle and causing him to grind against her clit on each thrust, if the small noises she is suddenly making are anything to go by. Lifting his head, he sees that her brow is furrowed and her lips parted and he cannot help but place an open mouthed, gasping kiss there. River sucks at his tongue as her hips buck up beneath him and then breaks the kiss to gasp in air, her nails digging into his back and a sharp hiss of pleasure leaving her lips, and he gazes down at her and -

“Your highness? I just had a thought about tomor –“

Gasping curses beneath him as the flap to her tent opens and a figure stops short in the entrance, River shoves the Doctor off of her, dragging a blanket up over her chest.

Her general stands halted abruptly, staring at them with his mouth open as they scramble to sit up amongst the blankets and pelts.

“Romulus!” River splutters, “How - how dare you just barge into my tent!?”

Romulus gapes at them, looking utterly shocked for a moment before his mouth closes and he frowns.

“I thought you were resting, highness. I see I was… mistaken.”

The Doctor hears River swallow next to him and watches her shove a hand that trembles through her mussed curls as she looks away from him. “I’m… I - what do you want?” She snaps the words, turning her panic to anger.

Romulus shakes his head, taking  a step back. “It can wait ‘til dawn. I see you are… busy.” He practically sneers the word, eyeing the Doctor with venomous disgust.

“If that’s the case you should’ve left it ‘til dawn in the first place!” She spits crossly. “Get out!”

He ducks his head obligingly. “Apologies,” he mumbles, before turning and ducking out of her tent.

Letting out a heavy breath, River lets herself fall back down on the pile of cushions, hand pressed over her eyes.

When she does not move after a few moments, the Doctor, his own heart still pounding hard, clears his throat tentatively. “Mistress?” He tries softly.

“Do you have any idea how that just looked?” She demands, hand still over her eyes.

“Um…” He shifts nervously at her tone.

She drops her hand. “Like I just turned down my general for my _slave._ ” Her head whips round for her to glare at him. “And it’s all your damn fault!” She jabs him in the ribs sharply with her elbow and rolls away from him with a huff as he grunts, wincing and clutching his side.

“I’m… I’m sorry….” When she doesn’t reply he tentatively touches her shoulder. “Mistress?”

“Shut up,” she hisses crossly, and he wisely removes his hand.

He lays there next to her amongst the furs and blankets, a tightness in his chest of worry and a heavy ache throbbing in his cock that he can do nothing about, until after long, long minutes in the darkness, River curses under her breath and rolls over and on top of him, sitting up astride him and reaching between them to take him inside her again. Refusing to look into his eyes, she brings them both to a quick climax before slumping down and rolling off him again with a heavy huff.

“I hate you,” she mutters in the dark, as they both lay panting hard, and despite the situation, the Doctor cannot help but smile.

_No you don’t,_ he thinks to himself smugly.

\--

The Doctor is inconceivably nervous as he helps the empress ready for battle at dawn, fingers trembling so hard he can hardly get the buckles on her armour done up. When she finally swats him away impatiently to do it herself, he marvels at the stillness of her own hands.

Before leaving, she marches him with her through the camp to a vast tented area set up with many cots, and a few men milling around busily.

“This is my personal slave,” She pushes the Doctor towards one of the men whom she addresses. “He’s studied medicine, and he knows a damn sight more than any of you lot, so you’re to listen to him, do as he says and let him treat the men who come in any way he sees fit. Understand?”

Looking taken aback, the man in the long toga stammers. “He – um, well we er – yes, your highness. Of course.”

River nods. “Good.” She turns to the Doctor. “Make yourself useful.”

Knowing other’s eyes are on them, the Doctor bows his head. “Yes mistress,” he says quickly, and with another nod she turns on her heel and marches away.

He hadn’t been expecting this, but the Doctor supposes he is glad to be able to help. Keeping busy certainly beats the prospect of sitting alone in the empress’s tent all day worrying about whether she was going to come back to him in one piece.

By midday the area is already filled with injured soldiers, and the Doctor is horrified at how quickly and on such mass that the casualties are rolling in; he can only imagine how many men are dying out there.

He voices his concerns to one of the soldiers, whose shoulder he had removed an arrow from as he bandages it after, worrying that they were already losing by the number of casualties, but the man seems unconcerned.

“It’s war,” he says like the Doctor is stupid. “And you should see the other side,” he snorts. “You seen those flamethrower things the empress has had built? Amazing. I watched a whole troop get annihilated in one shot.”

The Doctor squeezes his eyes shut and feels guilt wrap round his heart and squeeze.

By late afternoon, he is exhausted, both physically and psychologically drained, and desperate for the day to end; for the _bloodshed_ to end. They haven’t received any wounded for a while now, and the Doctor goes round checking patients wounds, and hoping that perhaps that means the fighting has ceased for the day when four men enter carrying another on a makeshift stretcher. They call out immediately for a space to be cleared and the Doctor calls them over.

“Here! There’s a bed!” He says as he scrambles to clear his supplies off it, directing the men to lay the blood-soaked soldier down.

“That’s it – carefully! Where is he wounded?” He asks urgently, running his eyes over the man hurriedly. When they get to his face however, they widen and he sucks in a sharp breath as he recognises the man as one of River’s generals; Romulus.

“He’s cut up bad; he was stabbed in the stomach and he’s taken a sword to the leg too,” one of the soldier’s who’s brought him in explains in an urgent voice.

“Yeah,” Romulus grunts through gritted teeth. “But I took the bastard out as I went down.”

“Alright, don’t try to talk,” the Doctor murmurs, laying a hand on his shoulder to gently push him down.

Romulus’s eyes find his then. “You!?” He stares up at the Doctor in disgust. “What are you doing in here – get me a physician!” He yells, and the four men quickly push him back down when he makes to scramble upright.

“I am a physician,” The Doctor mutters at he gets to work peeling his ruined armour off. “I trained before I was captured.”

“Oh. Well that’s - just… _brilliant.”_ He spits darkly. Seeming to have finally exhausted himself, Romulus lets himself slump down, squeezing his eyes shut as his breath comes out in shallow, short pants.

As he works to get the man stripped down to his underclothes, it quickly becomes clear to the Doctor that his injuries are a lot worse than he’d first realised. The leg is bad enough, still gushing blood profusely until he ties it off with a tourniquet, but the stab wound in his stomach is… something else.

He works tirelessly for a long time along with the other two physicians he waves over to help, and by the time he’s patched him up as best he can he is utterly exhausted. The wound is deep, and there is nothing else they can do; the man has already lost a substantial amount of blood and the Doctor knows it will be a miracle if he pulls through.

Sitting by his bed, head in his blood-stained hands, the Doctor looks up sharply at a groan from the cot. He stands, checking the man’s wound to see that the bandages have been soaked through with blood yet again.

Romulus makes another sound, eyes finding his.

“It’s alright - don’t try to talk,” the Doctor quickly says, and clears his throat. “Just rest. I’m going to fetch clean bandages,” he mutters to him, making to leave, but Romulus reaches out and grabs a fistful of the Doctor’s toga, hauling him down to him.

“You may think you’re important, slave,” He says, in a strained croaky voice as the Doctor stares down at him with wide eyes. “Because - because you’re the empress’s favourite little _pet_ but…” he grunts through his pain, eyes squeezing briefly closed. “You’re not,” he manages to choke out. “She… uses people… she’ll bore of you soon and - and you know why? You have no. Worth. In this world… and you never will… you are nothing. You’re just - her _possession._ And don’t think she sees you as anything… else…”

After straining to choke the last words out, Romulus’s eyes glaze over and a gasped grunt escapes his lips, his body jerking once, twice more before he slumps, gone. Staring down at him, his words etched into his mind, the Doctor swallows hard, and reaches out to shakily close the man’s eyes.

He has to excuse himself and stumble from the tent, pale faced, ignoring the jeers of “weakling” and “girl” that follow him from the other men working there as he makes his way outside. Stopping in the fresh air, the Doctor drags a shaky hand over his face, the general’s words repeating themselves over and over in his mind.

Of course, he _knows_ that’s what he technically is to the empress, but… he shakes his head firmly. Romulus was _wrong_. He had worth – to her. He knew he did. She’d told him as much – that she didn’t want to lose him – and he _knows_ it goes beyond him being of use to her. She cares about him – not just as her possession, but as a man. And despite the fact that he should not, he cares about her too, so very, very much.

Taking a deep breath and nodding once, the Doctor shoves Romulus’s words to the back of his mind and turns to make his way back into the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this one reads okay, because i'm honestly not very happy with leaving it like this... originally a lot more was supposed to happen in this one but as usual, i underestimated how long each part would be lol, and i've kept you waiting long enough so it's been split up... I really will try to get another chapter out as soon as possible - life is keeping me way too busy for my preferences at the moment! I'll be here then... anxiously awaiting your comments hahaa


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllll hello again haha. Look at that two chapters within twelve hours aren't you lucky :P Like i said the last one and this were planned to be all one chapter originally, but they grew long enough to be necessary to split into two. I was going to wait a bit longer to post this one buuut i finished it this morning and - i can't wait, lol.
> 
> Umm just a quick note before we begin… I know nothing bout warfare, obviously LOL, and I haven’t even watched that many films about wars and battles because its generally not really my thing. But I seem to have found myself in the middle of a siege here hahaha soo… um yeah this is just a disclaimer that I don’t really know what I’m talking about, if there’s any history buffs out there who know how these things really work and what im writing doesn’t really make much sense just… shh. Lol.

After another couple of hours, the troops are said to be on their way back, and relieved for an excuse to finally leave the stench of blood and death, the Doctor excuses himself to make his way back to the empress’s tent and get cleaned up before she returns.

Romulus had far from been their only death that day, and the Doctor shudders to think about the number of bodies – both from River’s army and the other – that lay out in the battlefield. He feels utterly drained and exhausted, and although he’s certain she’s fine since they surely would have had word by now if it was any different, he just wants to see River safely back in one piece with his own eyes.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait long; he’s just finished washing and thrown on a clean dry toga when he hears her unmistakable voice resonating throughout the camp above the sounds of the army returning.

The Doctor rushes out of the tent to see her striding through camp, barking out orders to her men to prepare for the next day as she pulls off her helmet, shaking out a mane of matted curls. She strides up to the Doctor and right past him, her eyes sliding to his just briefly enough for him to see the glint that shines in them, that alive, wild look she gets when she’s been fighting and is still pumped full with adrenalin. She snaps her fingers. “Inside, slave.”

He scarcely as the flap of the tent down behind him and River has fisted her hands in his toga and hauled him into her, mouth crashing down onto his. He’d expected this, of course – he’s experienced the way she gets wound up like this after fighting before, but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was the potent scent and taste of blood hitting him full force at the same time. He gasps, staggering backwards, recoiling from the shock of the assault on his senses to stare at her wide eyed. She is as drenched in it as she had been returning from battle before – but this time some of it isn’t even dry yet; her tunic is wet and sticky and – gods, she’s -

“It’s not mine, it’s fine,” she says quickly as he gapes at her before lunging for him again but he backs away, dodging her arms.

He’s seen nothing but blood today; pouring from men’s bodies, leaving them lifeless, a mess, cut up and destroyed by war and here is the empress; covered in it head to toe and wearing it like a robe of bloody victory.

“I – you –“ he fumbles for an excuse. “Your lip –“

River wipes the back of her hand over her swollen, bleeding bottom lip, glancing down at it and shrugging. “It’s nothing. Come here, I want you.” She steps forward again, reaching up and hauling him down to her by the back of his neck, kissing him fiercely. He tries to make himself relax, he does, but the metallic stench of the blood clinging to her stings his nostrils and when he lifts his hands to her arms he yanks them away again quickly in shock when he finds her skin wet and sticky. Her hands are already clawing at him, and she is moaning into his mouth, almost a feral, desperate noise but he… he just can’t bring himself to touch her like this, with the stench of death clinging to her. It… repulses him.

He pushes her back, pulling himself from her hands grabbing at his clothing as he shakes his head. “You need to get cleaned up, let me… I’ll help you wash first and then –“

“No,” she frowns at him, panting hard as she stands staring at him, face flushed and eyes flashing. “I want you now.” She reaches for him again but he grabs her wrists, plucking them from his toga and shaking his head.

“Please, mistress, I’m just asking that you –“

“I’m going to lose my patience in a second!” She snaps, cutting him off as she wrenches her hands from his grasp, moving them to her armoured breastplate which she begins unbuckling with agitated, jerking movements. “Take your damn clothes off,” she orders.

The breastplate hits the floor with a clunk and she launches herself at him again, quick, trembling hands, yanking roughly at his toga. “I said _off_ ,” she growls in frustration.

“Mistress –“ he tries as he stumbles backwards, hands trying to wrestle hers on the tie of his robe. “Please –“

He trips over something behind him and tumbles down to the floor with River landing over him with a grunt. Her hands are sliding beneath his clothes now as he tries to scramble from under her, her legs straddling him as she grinds desperately against his thigh, smearing blood and filth all over him. “I want you,” she murmurs against him as she nips at his skin, breath hot on his jawline. “Hurry –“

She is sticky beneath his hands with blood clinging to her clothes and skin and hair and it’s all he can see and all he can _breathe -_

“No, no wait,” he pries her hands from him, scrambling from beneath her, “River, wait – just wait!“ he manages to dislodge her from him and scramble backwards to put some space between him and her, and they stare at each other, both breathing hard.

“Are you saying no to me?” She breathes, disbelief and a clear threat in her voice.

“I just –“ He shoves a trembling hand through her hair. “You’re covered in blood and I just –“

Before he can get another word out she flies at him again, hands flying straight to his toga with the intention of ripping it over his head and – he feels something snap in him and with a strength he wasn’t aware he possessed, grabs the empress by the wrists and forcefully throws her away from him. “ _No,_ River!”

He stumbles to his feet and staggers backwards across the tent to lean against the table at the far side for support on his shaking limbs as River sits sprawled on the floor where she had landed staring up at him in utter shock.

After a cold pause, she flies to her feet.

 “How dare you defy me!” She rages. “Get back over here _right now_ and do as I say!”

Setting his jaw, he pushes away from the table and stands straight. He shakes his head once. “No.”

She stomps her foot. “I’m not _asking_ you, slave!”

Again he shakes his head, moving away, towards the exit. He pauses, and runs his eyes over her, pointedly eyeing her blood-splattered form with distaste.

“I don’t want to touch you like that,” he says before he turns and stalks from her tent, blood pumping with… fury? Yes, he was furious.

She’d angered him, really and truly made him mad. Just when he thought she and he were growing closer, that the boundaries were eroding between them and their status’s holding less meaning she reverts back to _this_ the second she doesn’t get her own way.

Maybe he’s bloody fooling himself; maybe there really is no hope of ever changing her now, of making her a better person, of – he almost scoffs after the scene that had just taken place – _saving_ her.

After everything was he really still just – a _possession_  to her? Was what Romulus said to him before he died the real truth of it? His eyes sting with hurt at the thought and he scrubs at them, head bowed as he trudges quickly through the camp.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, head spinning, before not knowing where else to go, he makes his way back to the camp’s makeshift hospital.

The men working there seem surprised to see him, but he quickly mutters something about the empress ordering him back here, and makes himself useful.

He is tired, and sick of blood, but here at least he’s being of some help; fixing what he can, and offering as much comfort as possible to the men that he can’t.

Several hours pass, he tends the soldiers long into the night, and is just settling with the idea of spending the night here when the empress herself appears, marching into the tent. Looking up in surprise, his eyes find hers and she glares for a second, opening her mouth like she wants to speak – but then she quickly clears her throat, looking away and strolling instead over to one of the physicians.

“Did we lose many?” She demands to know in an authoritative voice.

“Um –“ The man rings his hands nervously in front of him. “A fair few, I’m afraid your highness. We did all that we could.”

She nods. “I’m sure.” She glances around the tent. “How many can fight tomorrow?”

“I’m – I’m not sure of the exact number, but certainly many that were brought in have only minor wounds –“

“Well sort them out then!” She snaps. “Anyone who can stand and hold a sword get him sent back to his tent.”

The Doctor stares in disbelief, mouth open as the man nods and scurries off to do as she’s bid.

River turns on her heel and marches back out of the tent, snapping her fingers at the Doctor as she passes him on the way. “You.” She says, and without another choice, he gets to his feet to obediently hurry after her.

Back in her tent, she turns to him expectantly, hands on her hips, and he knows she is waiting for him to beg her forgiveness.

But he is not apologising to her; not this time.

He clears his throat, breaking the glance and shoving a hand through his hair. “Did you need something, mistress?” He mumbles.

A stiff silence follows his words, before River turns and marches to the table. “Sit,” she points at the chair opposite her and he moves across the tent to do so. Gathering pieces of parchment covered with figures and scrawls in her hands she slams them down in front of him.

She offers no further explanation, picking up a quill and busying herself immediately with her own papers, and shuffling with the sheets in front of him the Doctor quickly sees that they are all labelled, lists of their losses of today along with estimations of the other army’s defences and _their_ losses and its clear she wants him to work out the calculations.

They work silently for a couple of hours, before River clears her throat, and seemingly somewhat grudgingly asks him for his opinion on whether or not going ahead with the next stage of the plan tomorrow was advisable taking into account all that he’d worked out.

Having taken out a huge number of the city’s defences including all their watch towers and a sizable chunk of their army, the Doctor agrees that splitting her army up and distracting the city with an attack from the front while sneaking the other half through the pass and into the city round the back would be a success.

“My scouts have found a city entrance round the back,” She explains. “Totally undefended. It’s only small with a dirt track leading to it through a wooded area – probably a trade entrance. I’ll have the forest scouted at dawn too before we head out to make sure they’re not hiding an ambush there.”

The Doctor nods, looking carefully at where she is pointing. “Sounds like a good plan.”

She nods once and then gets to her feet, crossing the tent without another word and leaving the Doctor to tidy up.

He takes his time, and when he is done and he tentatively moves across the tent towards her, River hurls a blanket at him, and gets into her makeshift bed alone, settling down and turning away from him pointedly.

Tightening his jaw, he frowns at her back for a moment before he takes the blanket and crosses the tent to the other side, settling down and curling up on the floor there alone.

\--

When the Doctor groggily blinks his eyes open the next morning, he is stunned to find it is full light, the sun seeping in through the canvas material of the tent and the small gap underneath it, and he sits bolt upright on the floor.

The tent is empty, the empress and her armour gone and the Doctor feels a sense of discomfort that she hadn’t woken him. He is amazed he hadn’t heard her – he supposes his exhaustion had finally won out… and she is obviously still very, very angry with him for yesterday. As upset as he still was himself over the way she’d behaved, he hates that she’d gone off to battle without him even knowing. What if… he shakes his head to dismiss that thought. She would be _fine_ , he assures himself yet again.

Clambering to his feet, the Doctor lets out a groan, stretching and feeling the pull of his sore muscles from sleeping on the hard floor all night. After dressing, he finds himself something to eat and sits down at the table with his breakfast, pushing the map laid out aside a little to make room. He’ll eat then make his way to the hospital tent; he dreads to think how many new casualties lie there already.

Munching on a piece of bread, the Doctor lets his eyes drift over the map in front of him, working out where River and her army would be now. They would probably be battling their way through an army that was no doubt sent out from the city by now, making their way steadily towards the pass that would lead them to the rear entrance for the city, while, like they’d planned, the other half of her troops attack the front. If all goes to plan, he doesn’t see any reason why they won’t be able to infiltrate the city walls today, and once inside he knows River will go straight for the emperor. He doesn’t doubt that she’ll succeed either.

He shakes his head, mournful over the loss of lives that will no doubt occur today, and wonders over the city so foolishly leaving themselves open to attack from the rear like that. It’s almost as if they’d _wanted_ a damn invasion… -

The blood drains from his face. “No,” he whispers, the piece of bread falling from his fingers to the plate as he stares at the map in front of him in horror. They’d missed it – _how_ had they missed this? How did he miss something as obvious as this!? Stupid, _stupid!_ Of course – to think that anyone would be as stupid as to – _how_ had they not noticed – not noticed that to get to the wooded pass leading straight to the city’s rear entrance – suspiciously undefended, apparently – River and her army would have to go down a road clearly nestled between two cliffs.

They would know their own city and lands surrounding well enough, and the Doctor would bet his life on the fact that the other side had been counting on River doing just this.

He flies to his feet and tears from the tent before even thinking twice about it, sprinting round the camp on shaking legs with heart pounding until he finds a spare horse tethered – thankfully saddled – and unties the animal, leaping aboard and kicking it straight into a fast gallop, thundering away from the camp.

He can hardly breathe as he rides, just  begging and praying to every deity in the sky that he would get to her in time. He tries to memorise the map in his head, knowing where he is going only by ink pictures he’d studied, but thankfully he seems to find his way with no problem, soon hearing the clang and clash of swords, the yells of men and the thundering roar of a battle.

Pulling his horse up on top of the hill he’s approached on to frantically look around in a panic, he quickly notices that the army has already split, like planned, some still hanging back and fighting directly below while others are advancing to the east and the front of the city and another chunk – River’s troops – are heading towards the pass to the west. He can see the cliffs looming up ahead, and they are so busy fighting as they advance there is no way they’ll notice now – if they push forward any further he will bet his life on the fact that a sea of arrows will be rained down on them and the entire army will be wiped out before they even know what’s hit them.

Raising a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun he eyes the cliffs with his heart in his mouth and – yes! There! There are figures up above. He’d been right.

Spurring the horse on, the Doctor thunders down the hillside, heart in his mouth, the animal beneath him panting in time with the frantic thrum of its hooves on the ground and it feels like it takes forever to reach them – he worries the horse or he will collapse before he does but finally – finally he finds himself in the midst of the battle, pausing only a second to look for the empress with a pounding heart.

“ _River!”_ He yells out but of course it is no use, and dodging a man who flies towards him with a sword raised, the Doctor kicks his horse on in a panic, terrified to his core but – he can’t stop now – he has to find her.

Heart in his mouth, he screams her name over and over, charging through the battlefield dodging swords and spears until finally – there at the front duelling with a man on foot he spots her, blonde curls spilling unmistakably from beneath her helmet.

He gallops towards her, watching her spear the man through the neck.

_“River!”_ He yells over the noise.

She whips her head round, staring at him with shock as he approaches.

“Doctor!? What the _hell_ are you doing!?” She screams above the noise as she clashes swords with another soldier.

“You need to pull back!” He shouts at her above the clang of swords and yells of men fighting and dying as loud as he can.

“What!?”

“ _Pull back!_ It’s an ambush River, they’ve got another army stationed behind the cliff – they’re drawing you this way on purpose!”

Finishing the solider off, River whips her head round in horror to stare at the cliffs that are nearly upon them, and he watches her freeze.

“Oh my gods,” she says.

“You have to pull back now!” He tells her frantically, hauling his horse up next to her. “If you advance any further they’ll wipe out your entire troop! I don’t know how we missed it, I –“

White hot pain resonates through his entire core, and he gasps, clutching his side where the arrow has speared him, feeling his blood seep from his body, pain spreading and rendering him voiceless, motionless.

Through blurred vision he sees River whip her head back round to stare at him in alarm. “Doctor?”

He gasps, trying to grunt out words, but all that comes out is a chocked noise and he feels his head spinning, his body slumping and the ground approaching…

“ _Doctor!”_

The last thing he hears is River’s scream before he hits the ground everything fades to blackness. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hellooo :D miss me? Not that I've done a very good job of being on hiatus from writing since I've written two fics in that time haha... but I have missed this fic soo so much you have no idea lol and I'd like to thank all of your for the continued support throughout the hiatus and for understanding, it's really meant a lot :) 
> 
> Not too many chapters left to go, and I hopefully shouldn't have to keep you waiting too long in between as I've written the better part of all of it already. Yayy :D Oh I've been dying to start posting this again lol ^^
> 
> I've put the last section of the last chapter at the beginning of this one, just in case you'd all forgotten where exactly we left off since it was a little while ago lol... well here we go, I really hope you enjoy :)

Heart in his mouth, the Doctor screams her name over and over, charging through the battlefield dodging swords and spears until finally – there at the front duelling with a man on foot he spots her, blonde curls spilling unmistakably from beneath her helmet.

He gallops towards her, watching her spear the man through the neck.

_“River!”_  He yells over the noise.

She whips her head round, staring at him with shock as he approaches.

“Doctor!? What the _hell_  are you doing!?” She screams above the noise as she clashes swords with another soldier.

“You need to pull back!” He shouts at her above the clang of swords and yells of men fighting and dying as loud as he can.

“What!?”

_“Pull back!_  It’s an ambush River, they’ve got another army stationed behind the cliff – they’re drawing you this way on purpose!”

Finishing the solider off, River whips her head round in horror to stare at the cliffs that are nearly upon them, and he watches her freeze.

“Oh my gods,” she says.

“You have to pull back now!” He tells her frantically, hauling his horse up next to her. “If you advance any further they’ll wipe out your entire troop! I don’t know how we missed it, I –“

White hot pain resonates through his entire core, and he gasps, clutching his side where the arrow has speared him, feeling his blood seep from his body, pain spreading and rendering him voiceless, motionless.

Through blurred vision he sees River whip her head back round to stare at him in alarm. “Doctor?”

He gasps, trying to grunt out words, but all that comes out is a chocked noise and he feels his head spinning, his body slumping and the ground approaching…

_“Doctor!”_

The last thing he hears is River’s scream before he hits the ground everything fades to blackness. 

\--

Blinding pain rips him from darkness and everything is blurred and spinning when he tries to drag his eyes open, sounds distorted, his ears ringing… all he can make out is that he is still in the middle of a battlefield, and a voice screaming things, right by his ear - a familiar voice.

_River_ … he tries to croak out the word but nothing happens. Are his eyes open? He can’t see her… he can’t see anything now. He hears her voice still, muffled, garbled, words he can’t make out  but the tone is frantic and the volume high, still screaming, yelling - orders?

_“I don’t care! Just -”_

_“But we’re at an advantage! We can’t -”_

_“I said pull back! Get me a goddamn horse now he’s bleeding everywhere I can’t -_

_“The man’s dead just leave him, if we pull back now we’re -”_

_“I’m not leaving him!”_

Her voice cracks on the screamed words, she sounds distressed, panicked, and he wants so desperately to be able to talk, to tell her it’s alright, tell her he’s fine… but is he? Is he fine?

He can’t feel the pain anymore and he supposes that’s good until he realises he can’t feel anything… is he even awake? Maybe he’s dreaming all of this… maybe he’s already dead.

_“No, no! Stay with me! Don’t you dare Doctor! Doctor!”_

\--

The next time he wakes everything comes rushing back before he’s even opened his eyes and he frowns, feeling the sharp confirmation of pain stabbing in his side the proves he is, in fact, alive. Unless you feel pain just as acutely in the afterlife.

He groans, shifting and carefully prying his eyes open.

“Doctor?”

He blinks, turning his head carefully to gaze blearily at the figure sitting beside his… bed? He can’t make out a face but he’d recognise that halo of golden curls anywhere.

“River?” His voice is dry and raspy and catches in his throat like he hasn’t used it for a long time.

“Yes, it’s me,” She replies, and he feels a hand over his own. “Shh just - just lay still. How do you feel?”

He frowns, trying to look around, things starting to come into focus a bit better.

“Where… where…”

“You’re in my bed. My palace. You’re safe. Do you remember what happened?”

He nods and then swallows against the soreness in his throat. “How…”

“You’ve been out a week - pretty much. You’ve woken a few times but you were incoherent… I thought…” She cuts herself off, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know if you’d ever wake properly again.”

He lets that sink in, stunned.

“It was bad then?” He finally manages to rasp out, gazing up at her again. She is coming into focus a little better now. She looks pale; tired, her brow crinkled as she looks down at him. She shakes her head.

“The arrow wasn’t that bad, it didn’t penetrate too deeply and thank gods missed any of your organs. It will heal fine as long as it doesn’t get infected - and I’m not going to let that happen.” She reaches out a hand, and with a surprisingly tender touch brushes his hair back from his forehead. “You landed hard on your head when you fell from the horse though… I suspect that’s why you’ve been out for so long.” She explains.

“Oh.” He comments, because he doesn’t know what else to say. His head does hurt, now he comes to think of it. But everything hurts quite a bit too so he hadn’t picked it out in particular at first.

“Do you feel alright? I mean - apart from sore - your head, it feels okay? You remember everything alright?” She questions him, eyes searching his face anxiously.

He frowns, nodding carefully. “Think so,” he rasps out.

“Gods I’ve been so worried,” she breathes out, stroking his hair. “I mean - that - that that clever head of yours would be damaged… you’re sure you feel fine?”

He shifts in the bed, feeling twinges of pain acutely. “Ow,” he croaks, and the empress lets out a small snort.

“Yeah. I expect that’s about right. But… you remember me obviously, that’s good - and you know where you are - and do you remember everything that happened? The battle, riding out, everything before that?”

The Doctor thinks for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I remember everything.”

She nods and then tilts her head at him, eyes narrowed. “What’s the square root of seven-hundred-and-twenty-nine divided by three?”

His head _aches_ but he understands - she needs to check - and he thinks for a moment through the pain, working out the figures in his head.

“Nine.”

“Hmm. Well that was an easy one. What shape is the world?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth at that. “Round. But only according to you and I.” He manages a wink and after a pause the empress seems to relax, letting out a sigh and nodding with relief.

“Good. That’s good. You seem fine.”After several moments,  she frowns suddenly, and reaching out with a hand, she slaps him round the face. Not hard - but certainly firmly enough to leave a sting.

“Ow!” He gasps in shock, hand flying to his cheek. “What was that for!?”

“Stupid idiot,” she accuses, scowling.

“Wha -”

Letting out a heavy breath, the empress plants her elbows on the bed and drops her head into her hands, shoulders slumping. The Doctor stares at her, baffled. “Gods you’re so… _stupid_ ,” she repeats, breathing the words out with a heavy voice, that actually shakes a little as she finally drops her factual tone. “Idiot. Madman.   _Lunatic,_ ”  she curses him, and he is shocked to hear real anger in her words.  “How could you be so stupid - riding into a battlefield completely unarmoured and unarmed - you’re damn lucky you weren’t killed!”

He looks into her blazing green eyes with his own soft ones, and shrugs. “You were in danger.”

She frowns. “I would’ve realised - or - or fought my way out if it had come to it  - damn it Doctor I don’t need you to protect me!” She says, anger clearly rising. “Don’t you _ever_ do something like that again!” She threatens.

The Doctor manages a weak smile. “No promises.”

The empress makes a noise of frustration, dropping her head back and cursing him in latin, before she gets to her feet, leaning over him, and yanks the blanket from his body, placing a hand on his stomach as she leans down to peer at the bandaged wound.

“It needs changing,” she frowns, tugging at his arm, her hand gentle in contrast to her snappy tone. “Come on, up.”

He sits up with her help, grunting a bit and wincing at the pain and effort it causes him, and River is silent as she unwinds the bandage from round his middle before pushing him back down and carefully peeling the dressing off.

He looks down, grimacing and quickly dropping his head back to his pillow, feeling a bit faint at the sight of the wound. River gets to her feet, instructing him to lay still as she leaves the room to fetch her supplies. When she returns with a  bowl of water, fresh bandages and - he winces in anticipation - a bottle of alcohol, she sits back down beside him and sets to work.

Predictably, the empress is unsympathetic as she tends to his wound, huffing at him everytime he complains or flinches.

He hisses whens she begins dabbing at it with an alcohol-soaked cloth, recoiling at the sting. “ _Ouch!”_

She tuts. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“But it hurts,” he whines.

“Try having a spear shoved into your ribs and then tell me how much a little arrow in the side hurts,” she mumbles as she works.

_“Little,”_ he scoffs. “Didn’t feel so bloody little to me. Ouch!”

“Stop squirming and let me work,” she snaps, and the Doctor bites his lip,fists clenched tight in the sheets as he obediently keeps still and his mouth shut while she finishes up.

By the time she is done and has the wound re-wrapped he is exhausted, slumping back against the pillows and panting a bit as she pulls a blanket back up over him and gets up to get rid of the dirty bandages. He watches her move from the room with the things and wonders at her tending to him like this; surely she could just as easily order one of her physicians in here to change his dressings but yet there she was... the empress of Rome tending to her slave with her own hands.

She climbs up into the bed beside him, extinguishing the candle burning next to them and settling down with a heavy sounding sigh. “It’s late,” she murmurs, “Try and go back to sleep and we’ll see about maybe getting you up tomorrow.” The Doctor nods, and with her warmth next to him and the exertion the Doctor feels himself quickly drifting off back into sleep - before something suddenly occurs to him and he forces his eyes back open, turning to stare at the empress.

“What happened!?” He croaks. “At - at the battle? You said a week - how are we back here already? Did you take the city?”

River tenses, eyes flickering over to his before she looks away, down at his arm resting between them as she absently trails her fingers lightly over it.

“I…” He watches her brow furrow and wants to reach out to her, pull her into him but he doesn’t think he has the strength to move. “I thought you were going to die,” she finally whispers.

“So…” he frowns, uncomprehending. “So what did you do??”

She swallows, and shifts in the bed beside him. “It’s late, and you need to rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I want to know what happened.”

“Not now, Doctor,” she says firmly.

“I won’t rest now - what has thinking I was going to die got to do with it, what did you do?”

She shakes her head, purposefully avoiding his eyes with a frown. “It doesn't matter right now.”

“I need to know,” He insists.

“Stop it Doctor.”

“Why won’t you tell me,” he frowns, “River please -”

“I stopped a damn war for you, you stupid man,” she finally blurts out, sounding angry and frustrated.

He stares at her in utter astonishment.

“You… stopped the war?”

She looks down, a frown on her face. “Two of my generals were dead - I - I couldn’t leave the army there - there’s no way they could take the city without me and I - I _don’t know_ I just… I just had to save you… I couldn’t keep fighting when I thought you were…” She lets out a frustrated sounding sigh and inches closer to him. “I don’t want to do this now,” she mumbles, burying her face in his shoulder.

“But - “ he stammers out, utterly shocked by what she’d told him and needing to _understand_ \- “But you -”

_“Don’t,_ Doctor,” she grinds out, face still buried. “I’ve kept everything back this week because I just wanted you to be _alive_ and - and I haven’t let myself think about how angry I am with you yet. You made me ruin everything…” She takes a deep breath that shudders slightly and curls closer to him. “Just sleep tonight, please. Tomorrow I have an empire and a huge goddamn mess to deal with.”

He falls silent at that, letting her words sink in.

She’d stopped the war… for _him_. Because she wanted to get him to safety… why? How? _Why?_

He has a million questions running through his head but he knows he won’t get any answers tonight, and so is forced to lie next to her in silence, and although it is painful when he needs to know so many things, he can’t deny that the warmth of her body aligned with his isn’t soothing, and though he’s been awake only a short while he is exhausted. He supposes being unconscious for a week from a head injury would do that.

Just as he gives in and lets his eyes slide closed, he feels the empress’s hand slide down his arm and slip into his, her small fingers closing round his own.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispers, so softly he wonders if he imagined it as he lays there blinking in astonishment for a moment. But when he swallows and squeezes her hand in response, she squeezes back, and despite the turmoil that he knows no doubt lies ahead, the Doctor falls asleep with a soft smile on his lips.

\--

He jolts awake to voices the next day, and blinking his eyes open, immediately realises that it is late morning at least, with the sun blazing in through the windows in River’s bedchamber. A quick glance around the room tells him that he is alone, and when he listens he can hear River’s voice, along with a couple of others, out in her chambers. She sounds aggravated.

He gets a sharp pain in his side when he tries to sit up but after a little struggling, he manages it, panting from the effort as he tilts his head and tunes his ears into the voices next door.

“- lost Romulus -”

“I know we do!” River snaps. “I’ll appoint someone today - being down two generals is the least of our damn worries right now - I need numbers. Quintus?”

“I - don’t have them yet my lady, I -”

“Well _get them!_ Goddamnit do you think this is a bloody game - we’re preparing for an invasion!”

“An invasion we never would have faced if we’d just stayed -” The Doctor winces as the sharp voice cuts in, which he recognisies as belonging to one of her generals.

“Well we _couldn’t_ stay!” River snaps, accompanied by the sound of a bang - a hand landing hard on a table maybe. “I told you - we’ve been over this - they had defences we weren’t prepared for and -”

“Yes, pulling back that day - but retreating from our station all together and coming back here? I’m - I’m sorry your highness but it just doesn’t make sense. We’ve left the city wide open to attack. It was like a bloody invitation to them -”

_“Enough!_ You’ll watch your damn tongue if you want to keep it in your mouth Antonius!” She shouts, the fury in her voice making the Doctor shrink back a little even in the safety of her bedchamber.

“I made my decision - it’s done. I’m going to meet with my council - Quintus, get some bloody numbers off this idiot and then join me down there.”

“I - yes your highness.”

The sound of hurried footsteps and the door to River’s chambers slamming follows her words.

The Doctor sits quiet in her bed.

“She’s losing her damn mind.” Another voice - the other of River’s generals - suddenly breaks the quiet and the Doctors eyes widen. “We’ve been back _two days_  - they could be here by sunset for all we know - and what have we done - nothing!”

“Now - the city’s defences are already strong,” Quintus speaks up. “I don’t think we’re -”

“But they army is weakened - and an invasion should never have happened - attacking and then retreating like that - it was madness!”

“The empress has explained - she learnt of new defences you wouldn’t have been able to break through and to spare the army any more loss -”

“No, I’m not buying it. She doesn’t run, it’s not like her. When have you ever known the empress to run from a fight? Even at an apparent disadvantage she’ll just claim the victory will be sweeter.”

“What other possible reason -”

“I’ll tell you the reason - the same reason she’s been holed up in these bloody chambers for two days since we got back!”

Quintus scoffs. “You can’t be suggesting -”

“I’m not suggesting, I’m stating it! That damn slave of hers is the reason for all of this!”

A stiff silence follows his words and the Doctor’s insides tie themselves in a knot. He feels ill.

Quintus speaks up, his voice quieter. “I… believe the man is irreplaceably valuable to her highness, he’s said to have a brilliant mind, but I don’t think for a moment that she would have put the safety of her empire at risk because -”

“What other possible reason could there be!? He’s more than valuable to her because of his mind I tell you that - you didn’t see her riding back, I know fear when I see it, and she was afraid - afraid he’d die.”

“And he’s probably going to anyway,” scoffs the other general. “Is he still out?”

“She didn’t say,” replies Quintus.

“She’s gone soft,” the general continues. “Lost her bloody mind and it’s all that slave’s fault!”

“This is why women can’t be damn rulers,” Antonius agrees. “They’re weak - weak to their emotions!”

“That is enough! I won’t hear any more of this. To speak ill of the empress is treason and you know well she’ll cut out your tongues and choke you with them herself for it if she ever hears of it!”

There is another stiff pause.

“We’re just saying what everyone’s thinking. It’s blindingly obvious.”

“I need those figures from you,” Quintus speaks stiffly after another pause.

“... I’ll need to go over them with my lieutenants first.”

“Do it, now. Meet me outside the council room as soon as you can with them - you know the empress doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

The Doctor doesn’t dare to breathe properly again until he hears footsteps shuffle from the room and the heavy door close behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope the chapter did not disappoint after the wait and I can't wait to hear your thoughts :) And one more thing quickly before I stop rambling at you, I drew a thingg for this fic, I guess it's kind of like a cover art thing... :) those of you who haven't seen it on my tumblr already it's here if you want to have a look: http://spoilersweetie.tumblr.com/post/83822284399


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely welcome back! I love you all :)

River doesn’t want to talk to him when she gets back later that day, and the Doctor is sure she’s had a very stressful meeting with her council. He doesn’t dare ask - he knows she’s holding him partially to blame for their situation and has no desire to invite her wrath.

She appears briefly and checks his wound, then leaves him with a plate of food and a goblet of water and tells him to eat before disappearing again.

It is a long day he spends the majority of worrying. He tries to get himself up at one point in the afternoon but finds his legs weaker than he’d anticipated - not to mention the pain in his side - and decides that the empress would probably be rather cross if she were to come back to him sprawled across her floor so he stays put. He dozes on and off - he’s still very tired - and does manage to eat the plate of food and drink some water.

When she returns it is night, and the Doctor stirs at the sound of her moving into the room. Their eyes lock briefly before she turns from him, dropping into the seat at her dressing table and beginning to remove her jewelry.

“How do you feel?” She speaks after a moment without turning to look at him.

“Uh - better, I think. I ache less.”

“Good,” she nods.

In between dozing the Doctor has debated on and off all day whether or not to tell the empress what he’d overheard that morning. She would be raging mad of course, and the fact that both generals would no doubt not have their heads attached to their bodies for very long after he disclosed their conversation is what is keeping the Doctor from wanting to say anything - but he is worried. They’re doubting her authority, her leadership - even her sanity. It’s troubling - he’s scared her safety is at risk. But, he reminds himself firmly, she can more than handle herself… not to mention telling her would also most probably induce her fury with him too… still the situation is worrying.

He clears his throat. “How, um… how did things go today?” He dares to ask.

Her eyes catch his in her dressing table mirror. She glances away again. “Fine,” she says shortly.

“What are you… what will you do if they attack? The city I mean?”

“What do you think I’ll do?” She says, pulling her hair from it’s updo with short agitated movements. “I’ll destroy them.”

The Doctor swallows hard. “Is the army strong enough now?”

Her eyes meet his again and they flash with fury for a second, her mouth in a tight line and the Doctor winces, preparing himself for her anger when she suddenly drops her gaze, her face softening and shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know.” She says, so quietly he almost misses it. He stares at her for a moment until the empress plants her elbows on the table and drops her head into her hands, and the Doctor’s heart clenches in his chest.

He makes to rise immediately but is reminded by the sharp pain in his side that in fact he can’t, and instead has to struggle into an upright position, hands reaching out for her desperately. “River,” he breathes, “Come here.”

She lifts her head and slowly stands, crossing over to the bed where she crawls up onto it and lets him take her in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her hair as he strokes an arm over her back. “This is all my fault and I’m so sorry…”

It is a moment before she takes a deep breath and pulls herself from his grasp, looking up into his face with a frown on her own.

“Yes it is,” she says.

He swallows. “River -”

“But that doesn’t matter right now,” she continues, shaking her head as she gets to her feet. “I need your help. Think you feel up to getting up for a bit or shall I bring everything in here?”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. “No, I want to get up.”

With strong arms round him, River helps the Doctor out of bed and supports him the short walk from her bedchamber to the large table out in her chambers where she has lists and plans all piled. He has to stop a few times; he’s shocked by how weak he feels and his side aches when he moves but finally River sits him in one of the chairs and kneels next to him to check his wound. Satisfied that it hasn’t opened, she places a goblet of water in front of him before moving into a seat opposite and shuffling through her pieces of parchment and scrolls.

“Why do you need my help with this?” He asks when she puts the sheets of numbers in front of him. “Your head is quicker at the figures than mine.”

She shrugs. “It’s not really the figures… I need your opinion.”

“On… the statistics?”

She nods.

He frowns up at her, confused. “But I - I don’t know your army - or theirs, I… you know my knowledge of warfare is limited, surely your generals and council members would be -”

“Oh they’re all idiots,” she huffs. “Talking to them is like conversing with monkeys, even when I try to speak slowly they can’t keep up.”

A smile twitches at the corners of the Doctor’s lips.

“I need to work out how to split and station my army that will best serve any of the five possible strategies the enemy attack us with. This is my city,” she hands him a plan. “If you had ten thousand men and were marching on us, what would your plan of attack be to break through our defences?”

He pales. “Ten thousand?”

River nods shortly. “From the little information I could gather, I believe that’s about the number they’ll have.”

He swallows hard. “And we have?”

She looks down, jaw tight. “Four.”

His eyes widen. “But -”

“Six with the new recruits but they’re so far from ready for a battle they may as well be dead before we even begin.”

The Doctor’s stomach ties in a knot.

“I have four the other side of Italy, and five overseas. Neither of which are any good whatsoever for me there but then I hadn’t exactly planned on any of this right now, had I?”

“But -” He swallows hard. “We have the city. The walls and the defences - and the towers.”

“Yes, the city is strong,” she nods.

“Strong enough to withstand an attack of ten thousand men?”

She looks up at him. “That’s what I need your help figuring out.”

“Okay,” he nods, shuffling through the papers and trying not to let his panic show. “It’s all about being tactical and clever then, let’s see what we can do. Do we know how long we’ve got?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve scouts out. No sign of them yet.”

They work long into the night until the Doctor’s eyelids are drooping and his head _aches_ and when he rubs a palm over his forehead River finally looks up from what she’s doing and tilts her head in concern, pausing mid-sentence.

“Is your head hurting?”

He glances up. “Um - a little.” He waves a hand. “It’s fine, sorry, what did you say?”

To his surprise the empress curses, getting to her feet. “It’s _not_ fine, why didn’t you say? Stupid man. Come on, up.”

“But - we’re not finished…”

“You are. I didn’t put the safety of my entire bloody empire at risk just for you to die on me now because you’re too stubborn to admit you need to rest. Up.”

_“Ow.”_

“Sorry,” she tugs him again, gentler. “We should change that again before you sleep too,” she motions to the bandage wrapped round his middle.

After she settles him back in her bed and completes that (painful) task, she pulls the blankets up over him and lingers a moment, hand brushing the hair back from his forehead. “Get some rest,” she says softly.

He grabs her wrist when she makes to move away. “Aren’t you staying?”

She shakes her head. “I need to finish these plans. You know time is not on my side.”

He nods and lets her go, but speaks up again before she reaches the door. “River?”

She turns back to face him, eyebrows raised in question.

“I - just… thank you.”

She looks confused. “For what?”

He smiles softly. “Taking care of me.”

She looks surprised, and then opens her mouth as if to say something but closes it again - then again before she clears her throat and shakes her head, settling for a simple mumbled, “Sleep, sweetie,” before she leaves him alone.

\--

The next day comes and goes and the army does not arrive, nor the day after that nor the one after that. River becomes increasingly agitated which the Doctor knows is because she’s getting increasingly nervous.

“Why haven’t they attacked?” She growls every night, pacing her chambers like a caged tiger.

“Maybe they’re not going to?” The Doctor says on the third night from his place at her table. She’s been helping him up and about every day more and more, and today he’s even managed to wander about on his own a bit and feels much better after River had had a boy fetch some water and helped him bathe - although the water had stung the wound in his side viciously.

“Why wouldn’t they attack us? We attacked _them_ full force - then retreated because, as far as they know, I thought my army wasn’t strong enough for theirs. And by now they’ve certainly found out that Tertius’s party has never returned… why would they not attack?”

“Maybe… they don’t want to fight?”

She fixes him with a look. “This is _Rome_ , Doctor. The currency is blood.” She shakes her head. “They’re planning something… but what?” She paces for another few minutes as he sits and watches her quietly until she whirls with a growl of frustration, swiping the jug of wine from her sideboard and hurling it against the wall.

Wincing as it smashes, the Doctor rises quickly to his feet and moves over to her, hands at her shoulders. “River,” he says calmly, “Come, sit down. You need to relax.”

“Relax while we’re sitting here waiting for an invasion!?” She exclaims, but lets him maneuver her into a chair and sits stiffly as he sweeps her hair aside and begins to knead his fingers into her shoulders in as steady and soothing a rhythm he can, until the empress’s shoulders gradually begin to slump and her breathing slows again as the tension eases from her frame.

“You know,” She speaks after several minutes, when she is finally leaning back into his touch with soft sighs. “It’s a little unnerving how easily you can calm me, sweetie.”

He chuckles softly. “I’m glad I can.”

He continues to rub her shoulders for another moment until River slips a hand up to cover one of his own, and the affectionate gesture makes him falter, blinking down at her hand, before he moves his other to cover it and squeezes gently, stunned further when the empress lets out a heavy sigh and turns her head just slightly to nuzzle into the touch.

The moment is broken abruptly by a sharp knock on her chamber doors and River immediately snatches her hand away, sitting up straight in her chair.

“Yes?”

“It’s Quintus my queen - an urgent messenger has just arrived.” Comes the reply through the door.

“At this hour!?”

“It’s  from Marcus Crassus your majesty…”

At the name of Tertius’s father, River flies to her feet so fast the Doctor stumbles backwards, only staying upright by her hand quickly on his arm.

“I’ll be right down,” she calls out, throwing on her cloak and sliding her feet into sandals. She glances over at the Doctor. “Can you make it downstairs?”

He nods once. “I’m fine.”

The long walk down to River’s throne room is a difficult one, and he is exhausted and aching by the time they make it down there, despite River having daringly taken his arm on the last flight of stairs to help him, simply waving a hand in dismissal when he warned her with wide eyes that anyone could appear.

When they enter the hall the Doctor sees that most of River’s chancellors have gathered there already, and a young boy stands in the middle of the hall between two guards, head bowed as he nervously shuffles on his feet.

The Doctor hovers at the edge of the room as he watches River march over to the boy, coming to a stop in front of him and staring down at him with arms folded.

“Well?”

“Uh -” the boy glances up at her with wide eyes before quickly dropping them again and bowing his head. “Y - your highness. I bring a message, from, from my emperor, Marcus Crassus um…” he fumbles with the satchel in his hands and the two guards move forward imposingly until River raises a hand to stop them, and the boy pulls out a piece of parchment. He holds it out to the empress with a shaking hand and she snatches it from him, narrowed eyes quickly scanning the words.

There is a tense moments silence before River screws the parchment into a ball and hurls it across the room.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” She demands.

“N - no my lady - your highness, majesty, I mean, I -”

“You go back to your master right now, and tell him if he’s too afraid to fight me I will accept his surrender and his city now - and I want an answer immediately or the members of his _royal party_ that are currently guests in my cells will start losing their heads. Starting with his _son._ ”

The boy swallows nervously. “He -he said you’d say that, your highness.”

“Did he now?”

He nods. “He also said that - that if you did he… he wants proof that they’re not already dead. If - if I could just see them before I -”

River’s back is to the Doctor so he cannot see what made the boy stop talking so abruptly but he is more than familiar enough with the murderous glares River can shoot with those blazing green eyes of hers to know.

“You have one week from today to bring me your master’s answer.” She threatens. “Now get out of my palace.”

The boy opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but clearly decides that he is more terrified of River than returning without having done what he’d been ordered, and with a bow of his head and a mumbled, “Yes your highness,” he turns and flees from the room, tripping over his feet with River’s guards hot on his heels to ensure he’s seen out of the gates.

River whirls on her heel. “A _peace treaty,”_ she scoffs in disgust.

As the members of her council all glance at each other, Quintus clears his throat, eyes wide.

“Your majesty, do you not think it may have been wise to - to meet with him perhaps and see what terms -”

“What _terms!?_ ” She spits in disbelief.

Another member of her council speaks up. “Quintus is right, my lady, we are at a disadvantage if they do go ahead and attack, if a war could be avoided by some sort of negotiation -”

“I don’t negotiate with my enemies, Galleus, I destroy them.” She snaps shortly, then clicks her fingers at the Doctor, leaving him to stumble after her as she marches from the room.

The stairs are a struggle and the Doctor falls behind, a hand pressed to his side as he struggles up them, but to his surprise he finds River waiting for him when he rounds the corner of the second floor.

“Rest a moment,” she frowns, moving him to the wall and leaning him against it. She lets out a sigh as he slumps there, a running a hand through her curls.

“I can’t believe the damn nerve of them,” she mutters.

The Doctor frowns up at her in concern. “River…” he tries carefully, still panting  a bit, “What your chancellors said -”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me I should have negotiated with him too,” she warns, eyes flashing. The Doctor hesitates.

“If they attack, River -”

“Look - the man wants his son back. I was to send him and the rest of the party back before he would even _consider_ a peace treaty - with further negotiations to be made then. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten Doctor but his son is already dead. It’s not an option, even if I did wish to negotiate.”

“Oh.” The Doctor bites his lip, looking down with a frown. “There must be something we can think of… what if you were to say Tertius had become ill and - and died here - or fallen from his horse while out riding with you and -”

“Yes I’m sure he’ll believe that after we hurled fireballs at his city.”

“...Right.”

River lets out a heavy sigh. “Come on,” she says, “Ready to go again?”

He nods and lets her take his arm.

\--

Although she settles him into her bed when they get back, River does not join him herself for many hours, and, mind restless, he is still awake when she finally slides in beside him in the early hours of the morning.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says softly when she’s settled down, and River turns her head to look at him with a frown.

“You should be resting, not thinking,” she scolds.

“Nobody saw what transpired between you and Tertius. All you need to say is - is that he threatened you, say he pulled a knife on you and tried to kill you and you killed him in self defence - and that’s why we attacked because - because of the attack on your life. You could tell them you’re willing to forgive if they don’t attack the city and -”

_“No_ , Doctor.”

“But River -”

“No! I’ve made my decision. I do not negotiate _peace treaties._ I am not weak, I have no need for treaties.”

“Knowing when to fight and when not to fight is not weakness River - that’s strength.”

“What do you know about war, Doctor?” She snaps. “Just stop it. I’ve _made my decision.”_

He falls silent next to her, and lays there for several long moments before she speaks again, her voice quiet in the darkness of her room.

“You can’t change me, you know.”

He turns his head to blink at her abruptly. “What?”

She looks away from his gaze. “War is all I know. Stop looking for the good in me because it isn’t there.”

His mouth falling open, the Doctor can only stare for a long minute, her words whirling round his mind, burning like poison in his throat until he swallows hard and shakes his head firmly. “You’re wrong.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He reaches out tentatively in the dark and places a hand on her arm. “You saved me.”

She snorts lightly. “I assure you Doctor that was entirely selfish. I’ve become a little too fond of having you around to let you go that easily I’m afraid.”

He swallows again. “That may be,” he says, curling his hand gently round her arm and stroking a thumb over the skin on the inside of her wrist. “But if you had been thinking entirely of yourself you wouldn’t have stopped the war. You knew the consequences, and I’m not more important than your empire. But you wanted to save me - and you made sacrifices to do so.”

River is silent for a long moment before she finally replies, and when she does her voice is a low grumble. “Yeah and look where that bloody got me.”

He sighs. “Nobody said being good is easy. Doing the right thing can often be the most difficult thing to do, and you’ve already done it - you stopped the war, you don’t need to fight and now -”

“Stop it,” she cuts him off, pulling her hand from his grasp and turning away from him. “Stop… stop confusing me,” she mumbles, quieter, and then lets out a huff.

“River -”

“I need to sleep. So do you.”

“River, I just -”

“ _Enough,_ ” she snaps, and that is the last they speak that night. 


	25. Chapter 25

As the week passes the Doctor grows steadily stronger, the pain in his side lessening with every day. He doesn’t see a lot of the empress during the days; she’s out with her army and seeing to the city’s defences - he’s certain she has much to do in preparing the city for an attack. He accompanies her to a couple of council meetings towards the end of the week though and finds them somewhat troubling… the members of her council look less than happy with River’s decisions. Although they do not question or dispute the empress directly, their faces and the glances they shoot at each other say it all. River is far from stupid; the Doctor is certain she must notice the displeasure among them too - but surprisingly she says nothing of it - to them or him.

He tries to no avail several more times that week to get her to listen to his alternative suggestions in which a war could be avoided - each time ends in a very angry empress and when she threatens the last time to throw him out of her chambers and send him to work in the kitchens he wisely decides to give up.

“You _want_ to fight, don’t you?” He says quietly that night, late when he is laid next to her in her bed. “You want this war.”

It is long moments before he gets River’s reply.

“I have a lot to prove right now, Doctor,” she finally answers, her voice quiet. “I have to prove my strength as a leader… and not just to my enemies.”

He thinks over her words a moment before their meaning settles within him,  and he realises that yes; she was well aware of how unhappy her council and her men were with her at this time - how they doubted her decisions. He swallows hard. “Because of what happened… because of me.”

River lays still for a moment before she turns to face him in the dark, reaching out to place a hand on his face as she nods. “I made a mistake. A huge, _huge_ mistake. I… could lose my empire over this. I could lose everything.”

He stares at her in anguish. “You should have let me die… you should have left me there on the battlefield and carried on fighting.” He finally manages to rasp out, speaking the question as a statement with realisation settling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach - but to his surprise it is not regret he sees in her eyes when she looks into his own and nods.

“It was a mistake…” she repeats, and then looks down, her brow furrowing, “A stupid mistake I know I’d repeat all over if I could go back in time.”

“You… what?”

River’s eyes flicker up to his and then glance down again before she rolls away from him, turning onto her side but shuffling backwards so her body is pressed against his. The Doctor tentatively winds an arm around her middle, and as she relaxes against him and their breathing steadies and slows, they say a thousand words to each other in the silence.

\--

After a week and a day, the messenger boy is finally spotted approaching the city late in the evening and River and her council gather in her throne room to await his arrival.

She sits on her throne, arms draped over the sides and legs crossed as she drums her fingers impatiently, the sounds resonating in the uncomfortably stiff silence that fills the hall. From his place behind her throne, the Doctor watches the members of her council and her two generals shift restlessly on their feet, sharing glances he isn’t certain he likes the look of… and does River really need this many guards present for one young boy? He swallows, stomach in a knot inside him with the tension in the air.

When the doors finally open, the same messenger boy enters flanked by two of River’s guards, and as he approaches the empress with his eyes fixed on the floor looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world, the Doctor’s heart goes out to him.

“Y - your highness,” he bows.

River tilts her head as she regards him. “I don’t see a notice of surrender.”

The boy swallows, ringing his hands in front of him.

“My master d - demands that… that you allow me to see his son - and - and the rest of the party. Or - or he has no reason to believe they are still alive. Um…” He swallows again, avoiding River’s eyes as he speaks. “Prove that you still have them or - or he will attack this city.”

River leans back in her throne, eyes narrowed. “And if I do prove it?”

“Then…” another gulp, “He still wishes to negotiate an agreement with you.”

A silence follows his words as River stares at the boy intently for several long moments, before she turns her head and beckons the nearest guard closer, saying something into his ear when he leans down to her. The guard nods, and he and another leave the hall quickly. The Doctor watches anxiously.

“Tell me boy,” River says, “Do you believe your master is afraid to fight me?”

“N - no your highness.”

“Then why has he not attacked already?”

The boy shifts on his feet, wringing his hands again.

“Answer me!” River snaps.

There is another pause in which the boy looks up warily, glancing around before clearing his throat and fixing his gaze on his feet again. “No-one wants this war, your highness,” he says quietly. “My… my master - my kingdom - only ever wanted peace with this one.”

River snorts. “Hmm they’re not completely stupid then. I wouldn’t want to get on my bad side either,” she comments smugly, and the boy’s cheeks flush red.

She leans back in her throne, drumming her fingers on the side again. “Fetch the boy a drink.” She says after a moment. “He’s had a long ride.”

Glancing round and realising that he is the nearest slave present, the Doctor hurries to the tray  set on a small table near to her throne, and quickly pours out a goblet of water from the jug there, bringing it over to the boy and offering it to him with a small smile. The boy takes the goblet and hesitates, looking round nervously.

“Oh, what would be the sense in poisoning you,” River rolls her eyes. “Slave, you drink first,” she points at the Doctor and he takes the goblet back, taking a quick swig before handing it back to the boy with an encouraging nod.

“See,” she smiles, showing her teeth. “Fine.”

Thanking her, the boy drinks gratefully as the Doctor hurries back over to River’s side. The empress drums her fingers for another few moments and the Doctor anxiously wonders what she’s waiting for, until the guards who’d left re-enter from the side of the hall - marching a finely dressed woman between them. Her hands are tied and her mouth is gagged and the Doctorrecognising her as one of Tertius’s party.

“Finally,” River mutters, sitting up in her throne and motioning for the woman to be brought before her. The Doctor watches as the boys eyes widen in recognition.

“Now do you remember what I said last time if I didn’t get your master’s surrender, boy?” Says River.

Hesitantly, he nods.

“What?” She snaps.

“Y - you said that…” he gulps, “That you’d k - kill them. Starting with his son…”

“Yes. Now - you haven’t brought me a notice of surrender, have you?”

“N - no but -”

“Well,” she says, and the Doctor hardly dares to breathe behind her as he watches the exchange, “Because I’m nice, I’m going to give your master one more chance to get his son back alive.”

The boy seems to breathe a sigh of relief, nodding quickly.

“But I don’t make idle threats,” River snaps. “Kill the woman. We’ll send her head back with the boy.”

The Doctor’s stomach drops as he sucks in a sharp breath of horror and the boy gasps, backing off a step with wide, frightened eyes as the woman screams behind her gag. River snaps her fingers at her guards and she is forced to her knees, tears pouring down her face and the Doctor notices with even further horror that she is little more than a girl.

“Your highness,” One of her council speak up, rushing forward, “If I may -”

“Quiet!” She holds up a hand at him and nods her head at the guards.  “Do it.”

“Your majesty! This will _start_ a war - a war we can avoid - if we fight we may lose everything -”

“How _dare_ you defy me Quintus!” She rages. “Kill her, now!” She orders the guards holding the woman. They look at each other with wide eyes, glancing over to River’s council and shifting on their feet uneasily.

River stares at them in disbelief until she flies to her feet and spins, grabbing the sword from the hip of the guard next to her throne. “I’ll do it myself!” She fumes as she marches down from her throne.

“Your majesty - !”

“Hold her!” She demands as she reaches the woman, raising her sword.

The Doctor lurches forward in horror. “River! No!”

“Quiet slave!” She screams, whirling to fix blazing green eyes on him.

“She’s innocent!” He shouts back.

“She’s the _enemy!_ Seize him!” She shouts at her guards as the Doctor makes towards her and quick as a flash two men hurry forward and grab the Doctor by the arms.

Sword still in her white knuckled grasp, she rounds on the Doctor and he tries to scramble backwards from her terrifying gaze but finds himself held firmly in place by two sets of rough hands on his arms. “How dare you speak to me like that slave – how - how dare you speak to me, how dare you open your mouth in my presence and with a hall full of people!” She is panting hard, her eyes ablaze with fury and the Doctor is truly terrified of her.  

“I’ll lash him, highness,” One of her men move forward, grabbing the whip strapped to his belt and raising it menacingly over the Doctor’s back as he is forced to his knees -

_“No!”_ She shouts, and then her eyes widen as the guards freeze and stare at her.

The Doctor stares up at her with wide eyes as she looks around - her eyes are wild and she is panting, the sword trembles in her grasp… her eyes meet the Doctors and he tries to silently plead with her with his own, and then she looks away.

“Uh – no – I - take him to my chambers, I’ll do it myself.” She quickly orders, and the Doctor is hauled to his feet and dragged away.

\--

After being thrown roughly to the floor and kicked in the side for good measure (luckily not the side his arrow wound is on) the Doctor is locked in River’s chambers, and there he waits for her, preparing himself for her rage.

He was half afraid she might just do what she’d threatened - she is terrifyingly unpredictable – especially when angered and he’d never seen her so furious with him… he knows he’d crossed so far over the line he should technically have been killed right there - but he wasn’t thinking - he didn’t _care,_ she was about to murder an innocent girl right in front of him he - he’d had to do _something_ … He sits in her chambers in horrified anguish, praying to every deity in the sky that downstairs, she hadn’t gone through with what she’d threatened.

It is not long before the doors burst open, and the empress storms in, her eyes still wild and furious, but something else on her face too that he cannot read.

He scrambles to his feet. “Mistress?”

She stares at him a moment, breathing hard, and then marches over to him - and he flinches in anticipation - but to his surprise she simply grabs his toga and hauls him after her through her chambers, entering her bedchamber and throwing him roughly down onto her bed. He scrambles up, confused and alarmed, wondering if perhaps she really was going to do it… when she raises her dress over her head, throwing it off and climbing up on top of him. She fights his clothes out of the way with jerking movements made with hands that shake furiously until she wraps her hand around him and determinedly strokes him quickly to hardness with an intent frown on her face.

“River -” he gasps, “What - ?”

She doesn’t speak, and he can’t help it, as confused as he is right now his body always responds to hers and within moments he’s hard enough for her to move over him and sink down on his length.

She rides him hard, looking everywhere but until his face, her eyes closed mostly with her head bowed and hands braced on his chest as she moves with frantic determination. He tries to slow her down with his hands on her hips, tries to cup her face and get her to talk to him, but she bats him angrily away, moving all the harder for it until her body begins to quiver and tense above him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she moans. Her nails dig into his chest as she throws her head back with a gasp and her inner muscles clench around him so tightly it draws the air from his lungs, drags a grunt of his own from hips lips as pleasure floods through him, and when she shudders and climaxes hard with a cries falling from her open mouth and a deep frown on her face he is right there with her, spilling inside her with his hips jerking up into hers until both of them slump down, panting and trembling.

She lays atop him for long minutes, just the sound of their laboured breathing filling the room as he softens inside her, and she shakes lightly all over, tremors going through her over and over that he’s certain are to do with more than just the aftershocks of her pleasure.

Finally, she lifts her hips and lets him slip out from her before levering herself off him, but not going far, curling into his side and tucking her head beneath his chin, holding him tighter than he ever remembers her doing. He winds his arms round her and smooths a trembling hand down her spine, swallowing hard.  

“River?” He asks softly, and she sighs, and speaks the first words to him since walking through the door, voice hoarse and quiet.

“You make me… _feel,_ Doctor.” She takes a breath. “Back there. I… I felt...”

Trying not to let his utter astonishment at her words show in fear of spooking  her back into her usually closed-off self, he simply trails gentle fingers over her sweat-dampened back. “What did you feel?” He asks softly.

She takes a breath. “Guilt. Empathy… - for that - that girl. The _enemy.”_

Daring to hope that that meant she hadn’t done what he’d dreaded, the Doctor is silent, just strokes her back softly as he waits for her to continue.

“I… I couldn’t do it.” She whispers.

He closes his eyes as relief floods through him. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly.

“I’m - I… feeling things like that is something I learnt not to do a long time ago.”

“It’s something you were _trained_ not to do,” he says gently, and she nods.

She lifts her head after a moment, and looks up at him with green eyes that shimmer just slightly in the moonlight. “I didn’t want them to flog you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m glad.”

“Even though I should have done, after what you said to me in front of everyone – the way you spoke so –“ She shakes her head. “But it… terrified me – for a second. The thought of you being – being hurt, of you -“

She shivers, and he tightens his arms round her, watching her carefully.

“I think…” She takes a deep breath, that shudders slightly, and drops her voice to a whisper. “I think I feel for _you…”_

Lips parting at her admittance, the Doctor can only stare for a moment, throat dry and thick with emotion of his own he’s been trying so hard all this time not to feel.

“But… I’m your slave,” he says quietly, voice full of disbelief.

Eyes softening, and most certainly shining now with the glimmer of unshed tears, River reaches up and cups a hand to his cheek. “Oh sweetie,” she murmurs thickly, “You are so much more than that.”

His eyes widening, he searches her own as she looks up at him, hardly daring to believe his own ears. Swallowing hard, he raises a hand of his own and cups it to her face, thumb brushing gently over her cheek, wiping away the tear that has slipped down her face.

“I love you,” he whispers, because he’s known it, deep inside himself for a long time now.

Her eyes fill with more tears, and she sniffs, mouth trembling. “Nobody’s ever loved me before,” she tells him, voice small and wavering. “They pretend they do because they fear me… and I’ve never loved anybody. I never thought I was capable of it, I…”

“Shhh,” he sooths her, as her voice grows thick and more tears spill down her cheeks, he tucks her head into his neck and strokes one hand through her curls, the other still rubbing her back soothingly.

“I feel so lost,” she whispers.

He lifts his head and presses a kiss to the top of her curls. “I’m here,” he tells her, and she cries and the Doctor holds her until her soft sniffs subside and she drifts into an exhausted sleep in his arms.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welll... :]
> 
> Fun fact: the final scenes in this chapter, the last bit in the throne room where he shouts at her and she looses it and this end scene when they finally admit their feelings were one of the very first parts i wrote when i began this fic. I hadn’t anticipated it would take me so long to get here haha, a few more twists and matters decided to pop up along the way but this has always been where this story has been headed, and this scene is so so so important to me… so im a little terrified to find out your reactions to it tbh hahaha. So pleasee please tell me what you think! :)


	26. Chapter 26

Despite having lain awake with River in his arms most of the night and his mind going a mile a minute, the Doctor awakens before the empress in the morning, and is left with yet more time alone with his thoughts.

Finally deciding to simply get up and do something before he drives himself mad, he unwinds himself from River and climbs carefully out of bed, making sure not to wake her, and tiptoes out into her chambers.

Needing to busy himself, he tidies and fetches her breakfast and by the time River finally stirs, appearing silently in the doorway, the table is set and he offers her a smile, motioning her over awkwardly.

Looking wary and confused, River hesitates before crossing her chambers and sitting at the table, pulling her silk morning robe tightly round her. She sits still, making no move to begin eating.

The Doctor clears his throat. “Um… are you thirsty?”

She doesn’t reply so he pours her out a goblet of juice anyway and then hovers, wringing his hands and not knowing what to think of her silence.

Finally she clears her throat and speaks, eyes on the table. “We need to talk.”

The Doctor’s shoulders slump. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

She motions to the chair on the corner next to her own. “Sit.”

He moves to do so, and watches her carefully as she sits in silence, her bottom lip between her teeth and a frown etched onto her forehead, eyes intent on the table in front of her.

He wants to reach over and take her hand but he isn’t sure how she’ll react. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking or feeling right now - just that she’s probably very confused by her own feelings - and maybe even a little afraid… although he knows she would die before ever admitting that.

“River?”

Finally she lifts her eyes to his. “I don’t know what to do, Doctor,” she says, voice soft.

He watches her carefully. “About?”

She looks away again. “This war.”

_Oh_. He’d thought perhaps she meant -

“Everything. You.”

Hope rises in him again and he swallows. “Me?”

She nods.

“Because… because I need you. And you said -” She pauses, takes a breath, tucking a curl behind her ear and her eyes find his again. “You said you love me…”

He does reach out to take her hand then, holding it tightly in his own. “I do. I do love you. So much, River.”

“But…” She frowns down at their hands. “You don’t want to be _this_ , do you? You don’t want to be my slave. No man would want that.”

He swallows hard, his heart pounding. “No, I don’t… I don’t want to leave you, if that’s what you’re asking. And if… If to remain here that’s what I must be then…” He breaks off and lets out a heavy sigh, tugging on his hair. He doesn’t want that either. And he’d be lying if he told her he was happy to remain at her side like this. The situation that had kept him awake all night.

He hears River swallow hard and take a deep breath. “What do you want?” She asks quietly.

He raises his eyes to hers and knows only one answer; “You.”

She shakes her head, and pulls her hand away. “You can’t… we can’t. _I_ can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Do you think I’m going to - to set you free and then you can stay here and what - marry me? Because… _I can’t._ There is no way.”

“No, that’s not - I’d never even thought -”

“Then what?”

“I don’t _know._ ”

“I don’t know either.” She swallows hard again, and turns her face away. “Part of me does want to… to set you free, Doctor.” His eyes widen and he stares at her, not daring to breathe. Her voice drops to a whisper. “But the other part is too afraid that you’ll run.”

He frowns. “And what if I told you I wouldn’t?”

“What is there for you here?” She scoffs. “You’ll never be _accepted_ here - how could you be?”

He falls silent, staring down at the table for long moments before he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “What do _you_ want?”

She looks round at him as if startled by the question - and she frowns again. “If I knew that everything would be simple.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t?”

Looking down at the table again, River frowns at it for long moments before she speaks again, voice quiet and careful.

“It’s… it’s not a game, my life, Doctor. And yet I play it like one. My empire, my soldiers, my people… they are all mine… here to do my will. I can walk through my streets and point at those I wish to live and die, if that’s my will. Their lives are in my hands. All those I conquer… they bow to my will or they die.  In a way…. they are all my slaves. It’s how I’ve thought of the world and everyone in it my whole life. And… and I never questioned that until you.”

The Doctor simply stares at her, utterly stunned by her words.

“You don’t want this anymore?” He finally dares to ask after a long moment, and River bites her lip, brow furrowing deeply.

“I _don’t know_.” She says again. And then, after a pause, she whispers, “I don’t want you to be my slave anymore.”

The Doctor watches her, heart pounding.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever truly _wanted_ to be mine,” She continues, “and yet… yet I don’t want to _own_ you. Not like that. I want - I want… I don’t know, I don’t _understand_ it, it makes no sense...” She trails off, and gives a frustrated noise, rubbing at her forehead.

And idea forms in the Doctor’s mind, one that had flittered through it briefly many times in the night that he’d immediately dismissed as impossible and known hoping for even a second would hurt if it couldn’t happen but - oh gods, could it? Suddenly the possibility grips hold of everything inside him so tightly he hardly dares to breathe.

“River,” his heart pounds in his chest and he kneels to take her hands. “Let’s go.”

She stares down at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Go? Go where?”

“Anywhere – away from here, from Rome – come with me back to England – you have money, we can make a life there together…”

River shakes her head. “What about Rome? My empire – how can I just leave – this is _insane,_ Doctor –“

“We’ll just _go_ – forget about it, River, all of it – we’ll just go and we can do anything – whatever you want – we can travel the world, fill in all those blank spaces on your globe – we can – hell, we can go to the stars – if that’s what you want – we’ll do it, me and you, we’ll build the first flying machine that can fly so high we can visit those stars and worlds above – what do you say?”

Her eyes wide, River stares at him a moment before she shakes her head. “I can’t – I _can’t…”_

“But _why not?_ What’s stopping you, really? Let’s just _go_ , River –”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking of me!” She shouts, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m asking you to let yourself be _happy_ – you’re not happy here, you never will be –”

“How do you know that!?”

He looks into her eyes, heart aching. “River… look at you. You cried yourself to sleep last night because of what you nearly had to do, because of everything - how can you say that it all makes you happy –“

“I’m not happy now because of _you!”_ She shouts, cutting him off. “Why did you have to drop into my life and – and turn it all upside down – I never knew any different before you, I was content to just –“

“You were heartless River and you know it – you were brainwashed into being this, this cold, cruel ruthless ruler - what do you do here, what will you do forever? You conquer – and what you can’t conquer you destroy – how many towns have fallen simply because they were in your way – how many people have died, River? When will it ever stop?”

“Why does it have to stop!?” She shouts at him.

“Because it’s _wrong!”_

“It’s _me!”_

“It’s not you! I know it’s not - it’s what you were _made_ into, you can be a good person, I know you can - you’re not that heartless killer anymore -“

“At least I wasn’t _weak_ ,” she cries, wiping furiously at tears as they spill down her cheeks. “Look at what you’ve done to me – you’ve – you’ve _broken_ me, you’ve turned me into this stupid  sentimental _fool_ – you’ve taken everything I needed to run this damn empire and destroyed it!” She stands, whirling from him and burying her face in her hands. “You’ve ruined my life…”

“River,” he tries, moving forward to turn her gently and wrap his arms round her.

“No!” She shouts hoarsely, struggling angrily.

“River – River, shh,” he murmurs, holding her tightly and rocking her as she struggles, desperately trying to placate her.

“Get off – let go of me!” She screams, tears soaking the front of his toga as she shoves at him, weakened by her crying.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut against tears of his own and refusing to relinquish his hold on her. “Just – just calm down, you’re alright, it’ll be alright…”

“Let go, let _go!”_ She sobs brokenly.

“River –“

_“Get off me!”_

At that last scream the door to her chambers busts open all of a sudden and Quintus stands wild-eyed in the doorway.

He needs only to take one look at the scene in front of him – his empress in tears, struggling in the arms of her slave who is holding tight to her as she screams and fights him, and the man is hollering for the guards.

It all happens so fast, that one minute the Doctor is holding River in his arms, desperately trying to calm her down, and the next he is flat on his back on the floor, head spinning with the force of the blow and stars behind his eyes, and then he is being hauled to his feet in between two of the palace guards as River stumbles backwards away from him, eyes wide and hands to her mouth as she shakes her head in horror.

“Take him to the cells!” Quintus demands furiously, rushing to River’s side.

“Wait – no!” The Doctor protests frantically. “You’ve got it all wrong – I – this wasn’t what you think, I wasn’t –“

“Take him now!”

“No! _River!”_ He begs desperately, fighting the iron grip of the two men. “River _please!_ Please tell them –“

“Shut up slave!” One of the guards demands as they drag the Doctor towards the door.

“No -  River! Don’t let them do this – please, _please!”_

Her eyes lift to lock with his, but with tears spilling from them, River only shakes her head, turning away from him to bury her face in her hands as Quintus, looking horribly alarmed, hesitates before putting an arm round her shoulders and pulling her carefully to him.

His heart breaking in two, the Doctor can only gasp for air as he is hauled roughly from the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was so short, but this scene needed to stand alone... I shouldn't need to keep you waiting too long for the next one. I know I say it a lot but thank you again for all your lovely words and continued encouragement, it makes my day ^^ (week... life xD hahaha)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up because a lott of people commented on this… the reason Quintus ‘didn’t knock’ is because he heard River screaming at the Doctor to get off her. Assume he was approaching her chambers to see her about something or happened to be near by and yeah - he heard her and panicked - thinking his empress was in danger. I obviously didn’t make that clear enough… fail lol :(

She’ll come and get him. She has to. She just had to let them take him because she couldn’t be seen defending him – a slave – for what he did. No matter the situation – even if they did believe he was simply trying to calm her down, him holding her like that at all – never mind against her will - would be grounds for execution.

The cells are dark and damp, with dirt for floors and only a small hole at the top of the wall for a window. Torches burn outside, lining the gloomy hallway, and although he had passed a few other prisoners on his way down, the corridor his cell is placed in appears to be empty apart from him.

Sitting with his back to the wall and elbows on his knees, head in his hands, the Doctor replays that scene in her chambers over and over as he waits for her to come. He’d messed up… and shouting at her like that, begging her not to let them take him as he was dragged away certainly hadn’t helped matters… he’d used her _name_ for gods’ sakes - and he’d used it the day before down in the throne room without thinking too.

One thing was certain; he could no longer go on being the empress’s slave after this… he didn’t know what that meant for him - for - for he and River. She’d told him she didn’t _want_ him to be her slave anymore… so now what? Would she free him? But she’d said it herself and he knew she was right; he could never be accepted here in Rome. And River had made it quite clear that she didn’t want to leave. She’d seemed downright terrified of the idea… and what had he expected? This was her life - this was all she’d ever known, striving her whole life to get to where she is - fighting for power. That was everything to her. How could just _he_ make her happy?

Perhaps she would… she could pretend she’d had him flogged or beaten for his behaviour and things could simply go back to normal for now - while they figure it out. He just hopes she comes to get him soon because the longer he waits in that cell the more terrified about what’s going round her mind he becomes.

But she’ll come and get him. Surely before nightfall.

The night comes and goes and River does not appear.

\--

“You there!”

The Doctor is startled awake and quickly pulls himself up and to his feet as a guard unlocks his cell and swings the door open.

“Out.” He shoves the Doctor out in front of him and closes the cell, proceeding to push him along the corridor. Stumbling in the chains he has round his ankles, the Doctor swallows and tries to look round at the man.

“Where am I going?”

He gets a smack to the back of his head. “Move.”

He is marched down the corridor and up a set of stairs then through another corridor. All the prison cells are empty, and when they reach the top of another flight of stairs he sees the other prisoners, lined up between two rows of guards. He is shoved into the back of the line.

Trying to figure out what’s going on and what they’re waiting for, the Doctor watches as a man at the front is grabbed by the chains and hauled from the line out of the cells. He can hear a roaring outside, a pounding… cheering? His heart hammering he leans forward and speaks quietly to the prisoner in front of him.

“Where are they taking us?”

The man gives him a disbelieving look. “You’re better off not knowing.”

“Tell me, please,” the Doctor begs with wide eyes.

“Where do you think?” He snorts. “The ring. You better start praying to the gods. We all had.”

Fear engulfs him: _the ring_. The gladiator’s ring, where River held those awful blood thirsty tournaments he hated so much... And these prisoners, _him… oh gods_. They were the entertainment.

“Wait, wait,” The Doctor looks around frantically. “I need to speak to the empress,” he begs the guards near by. “Please you must let me see her -”

The laugh in his face, nudging each other and repeating his words.

“No please you don’t understand - this is a mistake she’ll want to see me you have to -”

“Shut up slave!” One of them finally demands. “Unless you want only one arm to defend yourself with out there.”

The Doctor falls silent as they all laugh again, panic pumping through his body. Okay. River would be out there. She would see him when he was led out into the ring and stop it - of course she would… unless she _wasn’t_ there… but she attends every tournament doesn’t she? She has to be there… she has to save him, this is a huge mistake - he _knows_ it can’t end like this, but what if -

“Oi! Which is the one from row five?”

The Doctor looks up, heart pounding as a guard enters.

“This one sir, at the back!” Calls out the guard by the Doctor.

“Take him back. He’s not meant to be here.”

“What? But I thought all prisoners were being -”

“Not that one, take him back to his cell - empress’s orders.”

Grumbling under his breath about having to go all the way back down, the guard grabs the Doctor by his chains and hauls him out of the line.

“Move. Guess it’s your lucky day slave.”

The relief that floods through him as he is shoved back towards the stairs is tainted by the faces of every doomed man he passes by.

\--

The rest of the day and the night passes, and the Doctor does not see the empress. When it gets to the end of the third day, when the sky is dark through the hole at the top of his cell he is starting to wonder whether she will ever come; whether she means to leave him here to rot forever when finally; _finally_ , he hears footsteps on the corridor outside his cell and a figure appears - a blessedly, beautifully familiar figure.

“River,” the relief in his voice is exhaled with the word as he rushes to the bars, wrapping his hands round them as she approaches.

“Where have you _been_ \- I was starting to think you’d never come,” he says, voice choked.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says softly, eyes pained as she reaches the cell and stands before him. “I… needed time… to think.”

“About what?” He breathes, eyes desperately searching hers but finding them avoiding his own.

She drops her head, rubbing a hand over her forehead before she sinks slowly to her knees and sits there on the floor. The Doctor kneels down to level with her, trying to duck to look into her face.

“River?”

“Are you okay?” She finally says when she lifts her head, seemingly having composed herself.

He raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I’m in chains. In a prison cell.”

She swallows. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “River… what’s going on? Let me out of here, please…”

“I… I can’t, Doctor…”

His stomach ties in a knot. “What do you mean you can’t?”

She swallows again. “Not… not right now, I - I need more time - I need to think. I need to work things out.”

“What things?”

“Everything. I - I’m on the verge of a war and - and _everythings_ just… I can’t… I don’t know how to deal with this right now.”

“You…” he stares at her incredulously. “You don’t know how to deal with me - with this - this _whatever_ is happening between us so you’re keeping me _locked in a cell_ until you have time to figure it out?”

Her eyes find his, wide and confused. “It’s not like that. Please don’t -”

_“No_ \- it’s exactly like that. Why can’t you just let me out? Why can’t I just come back to your chambers for now and -”

“Because - what you did was -”

“I didn’t _do_ anything - I was trying to - to calm you down, River - to _comfort_ you is all and you damn well knew it - you’re the _empress_ who cares what anyone else thinks? Just - just let me out of here!”

Wringing her hands in her lap she shakes her head firmly. “I can’t.”

He stares at her in disbelief. “Please…” He finally whispers.

River is still and silent for a horrible pause before she climbs to her feet, brushing of her dress and avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll come and see you again tomorrow night. I’ll - I’ll bring you food, proper food.”

He scrambles up after her. “River…”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”

The Doctor stares after her in disbelief as she walks away from his cell.

\--

With nothing to do in the tiny, dark cell, the Doctor is left with a lot of time to think, and that is what he does. He thinks about what River had said, about what must be going through her head… about her, and him and everything that has happened between them. He thinks about what might happen now… about what on earth _could_ happen… and he doesn’t like the possibilities. And finally… he thinks about the past… about River’s, what turned her into the person she is now - or rather the person she was that still seems to be her default when she doesn’t know how to handle a situation. And… he thinks about something he always tries very hard to never do - his own past. He thinks the thought he hadn’t let properly enter his mind ever since he realised who he and she were, but the thought that was like a persistent knocking on that closed door in his head, lingering always on the edge, taunting him with it’s truth…

If he hadn’t been, then River would never have been this.

He wonders what sort of a person she would have been if she’d never been taken from Amy and Rory… wonders what sort of life she’d have had. It would have been good - peaceful, probably - she would have been a good person; he knows that - an _incredible_ person - not that she wasn’t incredible now, but with the kindness in her heart her parents would have given her… oh she would have been amazing. She still could be amazing; he knows that too. If only she ever lets herself.

He cannot blame River for the way she is now, for the cruel and terrible things she’s done, and for the darkness in her soul, because she was _made_ into this. 

And it was all because of him.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies that this is a little shorter than my usual chapters, but I actually split a chapter into two because not only was it pretty long otherwise but also it was a lot to drop on you at once haha... so you get to think about this for a little bit before I post the next one. Enjoying seeing you squirm, me? Nooo :P But the next will be soon I promise :)


	28. Chapter 28

True to her word, the empress does arrive the following evening, late, almost into the night. He hears footsteps on the stairs before her lowered voice, probably dismissing the guard, and then the footsteps steady on the stone floor of the corridor, moving towards his cell. He does not rise to his feet, staying where he is sitting with his back against the cell wall, and he doesn’t look up when she finally stops outside his cell, casting a shadow over him.

She clears her throat. “Doctor?”

He slowly lifts his head, turning it to face her and sees her standing with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Have you come to let me out?”

She drops her eyes and tensely shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

He looks away again.

River drops to her knees and sits outside his cell, drawing something wrapped in cloth out from beneath her cloak.

“I brought you food,” she says softly, pushing it through the bars, and when he does not move to take it she sets it on the ground inside his cell. “And wine,” she pulls a flask out as well and pushes that inside too.

When he does not reply a stiff silence settles between them until River curls her hand round a bar and leans her forehead on it.

“You hate me.”

At the quiet words he looks up in surprise and swallows. He moves, shuffling closer to her along the wall until he sits right by her.

He sighs heavily. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

She looks up at him with pained eyes. “But look at you - at this.”

He looks away with another sigh. “It’s not your fault. None of this is, not really,” he mumbles.

“Of course it’s my fault,” she almost scoffs, dropping her forehead against the bars again. “Every… every terrible thing I’ve done is my fault and… and yet… you love me anyway.” She lifts her eyes slowly to his. “Maybe you’re not as clever as you seem after all,” she says.

Perhaps she’d half-heartedly meant to make him smile, but the Doctor looks down, a deep frown etched onto his face. He shifts, the chains on his wrists and ankles jangling, and he lets out a heavy sigh, eyes closing.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

He wants to look at her but doesn’t dare, not yet.

“It… it was me,” he whispers.

“What? What was you?”

He swallows. “It’s… it’s who you were being raised to fight against. Who you were meant to destroy - in Britannia. It’s why you were always meant to invade my town. It was all _me.”_

When he risks a glance up he finds her staring at him, totally uncomprehending . She shakes her head, a frown on her face. _“What_ are you talking about?”

The Doctor swallows hard, looking down. “There’s something I haven’t told you, River. About me.”

A stiff pause before; “What?” She snaps.

He takes a breath. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

“Maybe you should,” she says shortly.

He licks his lips and rubs a hand through his hair then begins. “The prophecy. The one you told me about - the one about you.”

“Yes…”

He risks another glance up into her eyes. “There was another one.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a prophecy that… that there would be a man - a healer… who would end all war.”

When a stiff silence follows his words he looks up again to find River’s face blank. “You, I assume?” She snaps. She’s angry. Right - of course she’s angry.

He nods.

“They realised when I was very young that it was me and - and my parents died… for me. I was so small I don’t even remember them but somebody else found out about the prophecy - and me - and tried to get rid of me - my parents tried to protect me.”

“Who did? Who found out?”

He takes a deep breath before quietly admitting the answer. “Followers of Mars.”

She stares at him, lips parting.

He swallows. “Apparently the god of war was less than happy at the notion of war ceasing to exist.”

She blinks at him, then shakes her head. “Mars, but - Mars is a _Roman_ god, what - I thought they didn’t worship the same gods over there, how could they -”

“I’m from Rome.”

The empress stares at him for a long moment before she purses her lips and snaps, “You better start explaining everything you’ve lied to me about properly Doctor.”

“I didn’t lie,” he begs her, “I never lied to you I just - I just didn’t _tell_ you certain things - things I’ve tried to forget about my past and my life myself.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was brought over to Britannia with my family and - and their people, people who believed in the cause - to escape the people who had found out about me and wanted me dead in Rome. I was young; a baby. But they followed us over, killed my parents anyway.”

“But not you,” River states.

He shakes his head. “A man, one of those who’d come over with us saved me. He was… had been,  a centurion here in Rome, but he’d left the fighting to join the movement for peace. I don’t remember him but I was told he was a great hero; his name was Rory. Roranicus.”

The empress’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “You _can’t mean -”_

He nods. “Yes, I believe it must have been. Your father.”

She can only stare. “But -”

“I was raised to tales of his bravery; he left to go back to Rome and continue the work over there when I was just a toddler. He took his wife with him, a woman he’d met in Britannia from one of the tribes. I never met her but I remember her name and one distinct detail I was told: flaming red hair. As fiery as her spirit, so they said.”

River’s breath catches in her throat and when she speaks her voice is choked. “Amelia. My mother.”

The Doctor nods and falls quiet to let that sink in. He watches as River drops her eyes and shakes her head, a frown etched into her forehead.

“What happened?” She finally asks.

The Doctor takes another deep breath and looks away from her. “I was raised that way for years, taught about nothing but the importance of peace… I always had a - a fascination for how things worked, a curiosity about the world and everything in it. They didn’t like it, told me I should be focusing only on my purpose and that I would fail if I didn’t. Then… when I was ten years old,” his throat goes dry and he clears it, swallowing hard as he prepares himself to think of the day he’d tried to block out forever. “Another tribe attacked my people. I… I _hid_. I hid, and they burned my village and everyone in it to the ground. It was my fault. I was supposed to be the one to end all war and - and I just let my people get slaughtered right in front of me.”

“Sweetie, You were _ten_ years old,” River finally speaks, her voice soft now, and he shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d failed, just like they told me I would. They all died because of me. And I knew I would never be any good for what I was intended. How could I do anything? How was I supposed to stop the tremendous force that was war? So… I ran. From the burnt down village, from that life. I ran and I never looked back.”

He takes a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in his throat and scrubbing at his eyes, sniffing. The memory of that day was one long buried, but one that still haunted his dreams every so often when it snuck through the cracks in that door in his mind, one that hammered behind it on some days, reminding him of the guilt he carries with him. The day River’s army had attacked his town had been one of those days. He was ten years old again as he’d watched them raid and burn and slaughter.

He sniffs hard, and finally looks up at the empress.

“So now you know. Who I am… where I come from. I was the one you were meant to destroy. But the ironic thing is that everything you were raised into - to fight back against me wasn’t even _necessary._ I was never any threat to your - your god. To war. I could never stop anything.”

River makes a small sound then, almost like a scoff but when she looks up there are tears in her eyes. “But don’t you see?” She whispers. “That’s exactly what you have done. I am war, Doctor… and you’ve…”

She trails off, looking away, and she doesn’t need to say it; not again. _Broken me._

He hears her take a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” She says, but she sounds not angry anymore… confused? Hurt?  “When I told _you_ everything. I - I trusted you and all this time you were hiding -”

“I wasn’t _hiding_ it, River,” He pleads with her quickly, “I - I was young when I left all of this behind me and I’ve spent the majority of my life blocking it all out. I - I didn’t even know about you, I swear. I never realised your story and you had anything to do with me until - until you mentioned your mother, Amy - and Rory… I didn’t -”

“Then why didn’t you tell me then?” She asks, voice rising a little. “You - I remember you asking why I attacked your town - you _knew_ then, you knew the reason I was meant to - why didn’t you -”

“Because I was scared of you! Why do you think?” He exclaims. “I was - am - your slave and you - you know what you’re like, River… I wasn’t about to tell you that I thought you’d been born and raised to destroy me - that we were meant to be on opposing sides - I had no idea how you would react.”

“But by that point I -”

“What?” He interrupts her with a frown. “You what? I was still your slave, you weren’t -”

“Are,” she scowls.

“Yes - _ugh_ \- you’re always so…” He waves his hands, trying to explain himself as she glares at him with both eyebrows raised. “For all I knew you’d think I’d been lying to you from the start, and - and that I was still working for those people and -” He breaks off, shoving a hand through his hair. “I was just scared.”

A short pause follows his words before; “And you’re not now?”

He lifts his eyes to River’s, widened. “Should I be?”

She quickly looks down, shrugging. “You’re in chains in a cell. I’m empress of Rome. You tell me.”

His heart hammers in his chest, before he forces himself to take a deep breath and calm. He shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of you,” he says, voice gentle.

Her head snaps up, eyes flashing. “You should be.”

He shakes his head again. “I’m not.”

“Why?” She frowns.

“Because I love you.”

She quickly breaks eye contact. “And the two things are connected?” She mutters.

“Yes. How could I love you if I feared you?”

Her wide eyes lift again to hold his for a long moment before she breaks the contact, scoffing a little as she looks away. “For a long time that’s what I thought love was,” she mumbles. “But now I - I understand it and I see what it really is.”

“And what’s that?”

_“Weakness.”_

He falls quiet at that, slumping back against the wall and letting out a heavy sigh.

The empress sits on the floor the other side of the bars and fiddles with the jewelry on her hands for long minutes. There are a million things the Doctor wants to say but he knows he’s done more than enough talking for tonight. He sits instead in silence and waits for her to get her head round all that he’s just divulged to her.

“So…” She finally mumbles without looking up. “I was meant to be your undoing. Funny how it’s nearly been the other way round.”

He snaps his head up and stares at her. “River,” he breathes, “I never _meant -”_

“I know - I know you never meant anything. Not - not in so direct a way anyway. You’re… you’re just honest, Doctor. You’re good.” He sees her tighten her jaw. “I’m not.”

“But River, there’s still time to change, you don’t have to -”

She shakes her head stubbornly and he can see tears in her eyes again. “It’s too late.”

His chest tightens.

“Maybe these – these prophecies are true then.” She sniffs hard, voice choked. “Maybe the gods really do exist – Mars is up there somewhere watching all of this – _laughing_ at my thinking I could better him.” She wipes at tears as they spill down her cheeks, eyes fixed on her lap. “Maybe… this was inevitable all along, and – and because I tried to defy him… that’s why you came to me this way. That’s why I –“ She breaks off, and her wide, red eyes find his. “Why I fell in love with you,” she whispers.

His heart tight in his chest and blood rushing in his ears, the Doctor reaches for her hands through the bars. “River –“

She shakes her head, pulling them away, looking away from his eyes again and wiping once more at her cheeks. “It was just so it would hurt when I had to do it.”

“Do what?” he breathes, body cold. He feels sick, his head is spinning and he can’t get enough air into his lungs. “River – do what?”

She swallows. “I can’t… do _this_ , Doctor,” she whispers, voice breaking on the words. “You and I. I can’t… be this person…”

His eyes filling with tears, he desperately reaches for her hands through the bars. “River –“

Shaking her head, she pulls them back out of his reach. “You’ve made me weak, and I hate it, and I…” she sniffs. “I wish I’d never met you.”

Heart breaking, the Doctor blinks through tears. “River…” he whispers in disbelief.

She shakes her head, turning her face from him and wiping at her cheeks. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Please, River,” he begs, “Please don’t do this…”

She sniffs, more tears spilling from her eyes. “I have to.”

“They’ll kill me if you leave me here…”

She lets out a small sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“River…”

Standing, she brushes herself off, granting him one last tear-filled glance. “Goodbye sweetie.”

“River!” He cries after her desperately, but she is gone.

\--


	29. Chapter 29

_This can’t be happening._

“Please, you must let me speak to the empress, I need to see her!”

“Shut up slave,” A hand shoves him roughly forward, sending him stumbling to the front of the line, nearly tripping in his chains. The crowd is roaring outside and the man who’d just been sent out does not sound to be faring well if the bloodthirsty jeers he can hear are anything to go by.

“I need to see the empress,” The Doctor tries again, begging the guards with wide eyes and hands clasped. “This is a mistake, please -”

“This is no mistake, slave,” spits the guard through his helmet. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

“But the empress -”

“The empress _ordered it!”_ He roars, slamming the end of his spear on the ground to punctuate his cruel statement. The Doctor stares, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No,” he whispers, “She - she _coudln’t have_ -”

“Well she did. She wants you dead. Now _shut up_ , you’re next.”

Blood rushes in his ears, a vice clenches around his heart and his stomach ties in a knot. He can scarcely hear the pounding roar of the crowd as he is dragged on legs that are numb, out into the blinding sunlight and into the middle of the bloodsoaked ring. The ground is red, the walls even are red… he looks up and around frantically - and finally he sees her, there up on her podium at the top, looking down right into his eyes. Her dress is red.

_“River!_ ” He shouts, but she is too far away, the crowd is too loud, and suddenly he can hear the roaring again - and then another roaring - the roaring of a dozen lions as they are let out of their pens and into the ring with him… he runs. And runs, and runs, until suddenly he is on the ground, and the roaring is louder but when he rolls onto his back to see his attacker it is not a lion but a soldier, looking over him, armour gleaming in the sunlight and sword raised -

Then as the figure moves the blinding sun is blocked and he sees no helmet, but a head of golden curls, and blazing green eyes and red lips curled upwards in a smirk.

“River!” He gasps as she aims with her sword. “ _Please -”_

The Doctor gasps for air as he scrambles up in his cell, his whole body shaking and covered in a layer of sweat from his awful nightmare.

Or was it a premonition?

Still trembling, he pulls himself up against a wall and brings his knees up so he can rest his elbows on them and bury his head in his hands.

He _had_ to believe River would be back. Had to have faith that after everything they’d been through, everything she’d admitted to him she would not let him die - she wouldn’t send him to the slaughter that was her people’s entertainment. Would she?

The Doctor does not get any more sleep that night.

Another day passes - slowly, and yet too fast. When he is given his second and final meal that day the guard tells him to enjoy it with a sneer; “It’ll be your last.”

The Doctor does not touch the dried up piece of bread, his appetite suddenly vacant. If River does not return to let him out and sort out this mess tonight, he will be killed tomorrow. He sits in his cell and watches the sun set and the moon climb high in the sky and feels every second tick past like a death toll.  

\--

It is past midnight and into the early hours of the morning when he gives up waiting for her to come. She had really meant it; she means to leave him here. She means for him to be killed. She’s so scared of the situation - of love, that she’s running from it, putting an end to it the most final way she can… and the saddest part is that he doesn’t blame her. Not for anything - and not just because her life, her everything is because of him. He doesn’t blame her because he loves her still; he knows as sure as anything he will love her until the last breath he takes, even if it were she herself bringing the sword down on his head. He would die for her… gladly… but he doesn’t want to leave her like this. She was so close to seeing another way. She was beginning to _understand_ the other way, he could see it in her eyes and sense it in her heart, and she needs him right now. He _cannot die_ now.

There had to be a way out of here… he’s smarter than all of the guards down here put together, there had to be a way he could escape.

The Doctor sits in his cell, thinking of scenarios and plans and possible outcomes long into the early hours of the morning. With no access to any resources at all, almost every plan he comes up with requires some degree of strength - knocking the guard out when he came to get him in the morning, pretending to collapse as he’s led upstairs and kicking the guards feet out when he bent to check… but the Doctor had never been a fighter, and the guards were armed and armoured… his chances don’t look good.

He is just going through plan number eighty-six in his head when a noise - a muffled grunt and a thud comes from the end of the corridor where the guard is stationed and he holds his breath, listening intently for other sounds - and then footsteps, hurried on the stone floor, approaching his cell. He scrambles to his feet and hurries to the bars to peer out, immediately recoiling back when he sees a dark, ominous looking hooded figure approaching. Has she sent someone to kill him here and now? Could this be her way of showing him ‘mercy’ by not sending him out into the ring? Or what if it’s somebody else who wants him did and doesn’t want to wait for the possibility of her changing her mind…?

He hears the jangle of keys as the figure reaches his cell and they bend, hood over their face to jam the key in the lock and open it with hurried movements and the Doctor watches, back against the wall and heart pounding -

“Quick, come now.”

His heart skips a beat at the voice and then he is lurching forwards.

_“River!?”_

“Quickly, we haven’t much time Doctor - and keep your damn voice down!” She hisses as he reaches her and she hurries him out, quickly turning to him and grabbing his wrists to unlock the chains around them before bending to the the same to his ankles.

“But - what - what’s going on?”

She huffs as she straightens, and he finally can see her face beneath her hood. “What’s going on is I’m making either the best decision or the biggest mistake of my life. Here, put this on.” She pushes a bundled up brown cloak at him and, still in a state of confusion he throws it round his shoulders and lets her pull the hood up over his face as he fastens the front.

“But what are we -”

“Oh what does it look like - sometimes I wonder if you’re really as clever as you pretend to be,” she mutters as she grabs him by the hand and starts towing him along with her down the corridor.

“You’re breaking me out,” he says in a lowered voice as they move quickly. “But - why? River? Why - why can’t you just release me, you’re the _empress_ , why are we -”

“Not anymore.”

He trips, falters, and pulls her to an abrupt halt by the hand, pulling her round to face him as he stares at her with his mouth gaping. _“What?”_

Clearly realising that she isn’t going to get him anywhere with her until she starts explaining things, River huffs and looks up into his eyes beneath the shadow of her hood.

“I’m leaving.” She states quietly. _“We’re_ leaving.”

He stares at her. “But -”

“The guards are changing shifts in half an hour we need to move _now.”_

He lets her tow him along this time, hurrying after her numbly, scarcely able to believe what’s happening. Perhaps this is a dream too. A very cruel dream he would wake up from any minute and find himself facing his death.

“It’s not a dream,” she mutters irritably from in front of him, and he realises he’d been mumbling out loud.

“But - River -”

“Here, down here,” she pushes him through a tiny door she’s unlocked with her set of keys the other way to the stairs where a guard lies motionless. The Doctor ducks through it and finds himself in a tiny dark passageway. River follows after him with a torch she’d retrieved from the wall and locks the door after them before grabbing his hand and continuing to tug him along.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.”

“Away  - away where?”

_“Away_ from Rome - it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I - yes but - but I thought you didn’t -”

“I was scared,” she cuts him off quietly, stopping to turn and look at him in the dim light of the torch. “And then… then I realised I was more scared of losing you, of… of what my life would be like without you in it. What it would go back to.”

He blinks at her in amazement. “But what about – Mars – the prophecies… I thought you said –“

“That it was all true?” She shrugs. “Maybe it is,” she says quietly. “ And then I remembered the decision I made when I was fifteen years old.” She shakes her head. “Nobody is going to control me. Not the god of war – or some stupid prophecy.”

He can only stare, hardly able to believe this is happening.  

“Come on,” she turns and tugs at him again. “We have to hurry, it’s just down here.”

They turn a corner and reach a small iron gate which River produces a key for and unlocks, hurrying him through and extinguishing the torch, tossing it inside before locking the gate behind them. When they climb the short flight of old stone steps he realises they have come out into the open, and are outside of the city walls.

“This way.” She tugs him again and he takes off running with his hand in hers, along the side of the wall in the dark of the night.

“What about Rome?” He asks her as they run.

“To hell with Rome.”

“Your empire…”

She shakes her head, refusing to look back.

He stops her, hand tight round hers, and shakes his head in disbelief as he stares at her, both of them panting. “You wanted to conquer the world…”

River nods, looking down at their joined hands and staring for a long moment, and then she looks back up at him with a the first smile he has seen on her lips for a long while.

“Amor vincit Omnia, sweetie,” she whispers, and the Doctor’s eyes widen as she leans in to press a breathless kiss to his lips. She lingers there, and he cannot help but smile against her lips, elated and giddy as what is happening really sinks in, his free hand moving up to rest on her back where he draws her gently closer to him. When they part River is smiling again too, and both are panting harder.  

The Doctor rests his forehead against hers. “Love conquers all,” he translates, and she smiles wider.

“I never understood it before now.”

She places one more quick, breathless kiss against his lips before turning and tugging at him again. “Come on.”

They round the corner of the city wall and keep running until the Doctor spots something up ahead and his eyes widen in alarm.

“River! There – someone’s there!” He hissed urgently, tugging on her hand, but River just shakes her head.

“It’s okay – it’s our horses, come on.”

He runs with her towards the small figure holding three horses, and as he draws closer he suddenly makes the figure out -

And halts in his tracks, staring in disbelief

_“Nuka!?”_

“Doctor!” The girl beams, throwing her free arm round his neck as he runs to her and scoops her into a overjoyed hug.

He pulls back, staring into her face in wonder. “I thought – I thought you were –“ He looks between her and River in utter shock, and Nuka shakes her head.

“I was sent to work in the stables – but there was no way of getting a message to you in the palace.”

He stares back at River in shock. “I thought you’d had her killed,” he says, and River shrugs.

“I knew how much she meant to you.”

He stares at her. “But why did you let me think she’d been executed?”

The empress looks away. “Couldn’t have you thinking I was going soft, could I?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “River…”

“It scared me, okay?” She admits quietly. “I didn’t understand why I wanted to show anyone kindness – and I certainly wasn’t going to admit it and make myself weak.”

“It doesn’t make you weak – it makes you strong,” he says.

She sighs, looking down at the ground. “I know that now,” she says quietly.

Nuka is looking around them. “Where is the third person?”

River shakes her head. “Just us.”

The girl looks between them in confusion. “I… but I thought you asked for three horses, your highness?” The girl says.

River glances at the Doctor, and nods, stepping forward and dipping her hand into the front of one of the bags he notices two of the horses are laden with. “I did,” she says, moving over to the girl and handing her a small bag. It jingles with the sound of coins inside. “Go. You’re free.”

The girl’s wide eyes fly up to River’s in astonishment. “But - !?”

River nods at the bag. “That will be more than enough to get you a cottage somewhere, if that’s what you want. Or passage on a ship maybe, back to your home country… the Doctor told me you’re an intelligent young woman.” She gives the girl a tentative smile. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Your majesty,” Nuka stammers out, stunned. “I- I don’t know what -”

“Not your majesty,” River cuts her off, shaking her head. “And just… have a good life. That’s what you can do.”

Looking light she might cry, Nuka stares between River and the Doctor, and nods, breaking into a wide grin.

“Thank you,” she says. The Doctor moves forward and hugs her tightly again before helping her up onto a horse.

“Keep safe,” he says, and Nuka nods.

“You too. Both of you.” And with a final grin, she turns and kicks the horse into a gallop, riding away.

The Doctor turns to River. “Shall we?”

She nods and he legs her up onto her horse before clambering up onto his own.

\--

They ride fast for hours, stopping only when the first light of dawn is just starting to peek through the night sky, and River tells him they should stop by the small stream they had been following for a while and water their horses. They dismount and see that the animals have water, removing their saddles and tethering them loosely to a tree so they can graze at the grass by the stream. He finds that River has packed food and flasks of water for them and he drinks and eats a little before turning to the empress - er - former empress, where she sits by the stream, gazing out ahead through the trees at the soft pink sunrise.

“Shall we keep moving?” He asks, and she shakes her head, turning to him and holding out a hand.

“Come sit with me.”

He moves over and sits down beside her on the grass. She turns to face him, lifting a hand to cup to his cheek.

“I am… _so sorry_ , sweetie,” she says softly.

He blinks. “For what?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “For leaving you in a prison cell for four days… for… for nearly -” She cuts herself off and takes a deep, shaky breath and looks down. “Gods, for everything. I’m sorry for everything.”

He swallows, shuffling close and lifting his own hand to tuck a curl behind her ear. “It isn’t your fault River, none of it was, not really. And you are forgiven. Always and completely.”

She looks up into his eyes, her own watering, and then she smiles widely, leaning forward to press her lips to his suddenly, so fiercely that he topples backwards onto the grass with her on top of him as she kisses him deeply. They are both smiling when she pulls back, and she smooths his hair back from his face.

“I love you,” She says softly, and his heart speeds up at the words. Words he never would have believed would ever leave her lips.

“I love you too,” he tells her. “So much.”

She smiles, glancing away, and looking so uncharacteristically adorably shy for a moment, he cannot help but grin, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her mouth down to his for another kiss.

Her tongue parts his lips and swoops against his and he groans quietly into the kiss as her soft curves press against him, feeling her settle herself more fully over him. He buries his hand in her silken curls, the other sliding up to cup her ribcage through the simple dress she wears and he hears her moan, their lips parting just enough for them both to gasp in air as their breathing and heart rates quickly escalate, and when River kisses him again it is with hunger, her teeth scraping, body moving and hands roaming and suddenly he _wants her_ so much he thinks he might die.

They scramble to get their clothes out of the way between frenzied kisses and breathless smiles and low murmured words of affection. He can hardly stand it when she grinds against him with her dress hitched up round her hips and her lips against his neck as she whispers how much she needs him inside her. Growling quietly, he rolls them, twisting her beneath him and delighting in her gasp of surprise as he kneels up to get his toga out of the way before letting himself fall back down between her parted thighs. He slides his fingers through her folds to find her more than ready for him, the scent of her already permeating the air and making his own arousal build further.

“Don’t tease, sweetie,” she pants, sliding a small hand between them to curl around his length, stroking him firmly before letting her thighs fall further apart and lining him up with her entrance. He looks into her eyes as he pushes into her and they both moan, River’s legs lifting to curl round his waist. Leaning down onto his elbows, the Doctor holds still inside her a moment, both of them panting as he strokes curls back from her face and tries to believe this is really happening. That he is with her like this, and she loves him and he is _free._ They are both free. He feels her clench her inner muscles around him, whining quietly and wriggling her hips beneath him, and when she swears at him in impatiently in latin he laughs and leans down to kiss her as he obligingly begins to move.

Her hips rock to meet his every thrust, their mouths swallow each others moans and River’s nails dig into his back. The Doctor can feel her building quickly beneath him and tilts his hips to nudge against that perfect spot inside her, feeling her body respond with a jerk, her mouth falling open in a gasp. When he moves his mouth to her ear and tells her in a low, breathless murmur that he’s going to spend the rest of his life making her happy, she breaks apart beneath him, coming with a cry, her body twisting and shuddering under his own.

No sooner has she caught her breath, she skillfully rolls them back over with him still inside her and sits up astride him, hands braced on his chest and green eyes full of love burning intently into his own as she grinds down on him, circling her hips, adding a little twist to the end of every thrust that drives him wild. His hands grip her tightly, and as he feels himself approaching his own peak he pulls her down to him, burying two hands in her hair and kissing her open mouth fiercely, pouring everything he feels for her into the kiss as his hips jerk up into her own and she swallows the sounds of his pleasure.

When he slumps beneath her, she presses another kiss to his jaw as she shakily levers herself off him to collapse by his side, not going far, her bare leg swung over his own and her hand on his chest.

“We should get up, keep moving,” she murmurs after a moment when their breathing begins to steady and their heart rates calm.

“Mm,” He shifts beneath her, wrapping an arm round her shoulders and turning a bit onto his side so he can face her, a smile on his lips. “So… where do you want to go?”

River’s eyes light up, as if what them being free like this - of her being free of her empire, free to go where she wants really means has just sunk in.

“Anywhere - everywhere!” She laughs, shaking her head, and then lifts a hand to his cheek and grins. “To the stars,” she says.

The Doctor lets out a laugh, lifting his hand to tap her on the nose with a finger. “A woman after my own heart.”

She wings an eyebrow. “Thought I already had it?”

“Oh - you do.” Leaning in, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, beaming, if possible, wider when he pulls back.

“Come on then,” he murmurs, pulling her up with him and taking her hand to squeeze it in his own with a grin. “Let’s go and see the stars.”

\--

**_Finem._**

**_  
_**

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS DONE. 
> 
> I'm not crying I just have some emotion in my eye. 
> 
> I've been procrastinating finishing this and posting it because I sort of didn't want it to be over... and I was scared of it being over - and of all of you not liking the ending! It's a bit terrifying actually... parts of this ending have been written from the very start, the amor vincit omnia bit and the very last bit of dialogue and I was scared that you wouldn't like it because I'm never going to be able to make everybody happy... but do you know what, it's my perfect ending and I've decided if you don't it doesn't matter, because I do. And I'm proud of this story. :D
> 
> Before I finish this I have to say another final HUGE thank you to every single one of you who has left kudos, commented, bookmarked, followed, reblogged and messaged me on tumblr about this fic, for every lovely word and bit of support you've all given me - it really really has meant to world to me. YOU ALL ROCK <3


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